#like. I know he comes off as a person generally unfazed with the mask on | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

elysianslove · 4 years

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hi eli bby !! its me vio again shhshf

i loved ur vball player crush hcs w miya twins && suna and can i have that too w sakusa, semi && shirabu ? MY UNDERRATED BOYS CRIES SM <//3 thank u sm <33

hiiiii my love!!! tysm for requesting these boys i love them so much. i hope you like this lysm <3

sakusa kiyoomi

considering what i’ve seen in the anime, and some manga panels, i really don’t think omi’s a peoples person. so even in school, i doubt he was very involved with other students, and probably kept to himself

he’s also hyper-aware of his surroundings constantly, including the people around him, so the fact that he noticed you wasn’t a shock

it’s that he noticed you, and then he couldn’t stop thinking about you

probably had some dream about you that same night that cursed him with a crush on you yk the dreams i’m talking about right?

he still continues to keep to himself, and whenever he spots you from his peripheral vision he just dashes out of there. he realizes that forcing himself to act normally around you might actually improve his situation and help him get over whatever this stupid crush was but he was not taking any chances

he also knew nothing about you, just your last name!

so anyways both the boys and girls vbc’s are heading the same school, so they got one bus for the both of you and combined them.

because his general dislike for crowds, omi usually sits out in the front, especially because the door to the bus is right next to him. idk he just seems like the kind to map out an escape plan for every room/vehicle he enters i don’t have a reason why i think so

the game was happening on a weekend, really early, like way too early, so it wasn’t a surprise that you were tired. it’s an unspoken rule that those who sit in the back make a lotta noise and all that, so you opted for the front seats instead to at least try and rest a bit before the game

you don’t sit directly next to him, but there’s only an aisle separating the two of you

because, yk, manners, you give him a small smile before saying, “good morning!” and settling in your seat, your bag between your legs

omi on god freezes up lmfao

he doesn’t mean to sound so rude but it just comes out that way! he says something along the lines of “what are you doing here?” and immediately regrets it after it leaves his lips. he visibly cringes

but instead of being thrown off, you just laugh, and sakusa curses everything behind his mask because holy shit were you gorgeous and wow was his stomach just somersaulting

not a nice feeling

you explain to him briefly that you’re on the vbc and you were heading to play the girls of the same school he was gonna play against and all that, and he just hums and nods and tries to ignore the thump thump thump of his heart

you don’t really interact during the bus ride going to, it’s coming back that you do

you tell him that you managed to glimpse the last bit of his game, where he was landing a spike, and you complimented his skills and pointed out his freakish wrist move

he noted that he didn’t get to see you play and your brain went opportunity!

you go “well maybe you should come to one of my dates” like the absolute smooth talker you are

omi just hums and goes “i’ll see”

absolutely is there lol

the development into a relationship is more implicit than explicit. the two of you don’t announce to the world, but honestly, neither do you do it to yourselves. like you’d been on a coffee date with him at some point and your parent or sibling texted something you found funny and mentioned him as your boyfriend and you showed it to him and he was like

am i your boyfriend

like idk am i your girlfriend

he said yeah obviously

i love this boy so fucking much pleaseeeee

but yes just as your development into a couple is subtle, so is your overall relationship. and honestly? you wouldn’t have it any other way

semi eita

omg pretty setter semi eeee

so yk how shiratorizawa students live in dorms? there’s no way semi hasn’t noticed you before, even if it’s separate dorms for different genders. like you two probably come across each other every once in a while at a vending machine or something, and exchange a word or two

it’s not until when semi starts to look forward to seeing you, or when he gets disappointed every time you don’t make an appearance, that he realizes, you know, he’s kinda developed a liking to you

he doesn’t really know much about you, aside your name and your favorite go-to snack from the vending machine, so he’s left a little frustrated at the lack of interactions you two have. like he’s just living off that small laugh of acknowledgment and the hi, hope you sleep well! you know? like he wants more from you. he wants to get to know you

he can’t seem to ever see you in school either, because the stars hate him that much and don’t wanna align for the two of you, not even a little to share one class with him. just one

it’s just his luck, though, when a busy weekend for all the sports teams comes along, and each sport is sectioned off to a bus. volleyball boys and girls in one bus, swimming boys and girls in one bus, etc.

he really doesn’t expect it when you get on the bus, because what the fuck you play volleyball??? and then he really doesn’t expect it when you recognize him, gasp and grin, and wave at him, and go over to sit by him

his brain’s short-circuiting

you immediately start conversation as you’re setting your bag down like “i didn’t know you played volleyball!”

and he laughs and nods like “i didn’t know you did either”

it’s honestly a really cute and satisfying moment like okay maybe the stars were just taking their time aligning thank you universe

the two of you click immediately. like annoyingly so. you have so much in common, and you spend the entire ride chatting excitedly about everything and semi’s wishing he’d just asked you to hang out way sooner, like as early as the first time you’d met at that vending machine

the girls’ games finish a lot later than the boys, so he comes and watches you play, and is enamored by you, completely. in his head he’s just ‘this girl just keeps growing more perfect.’

he walks back with you to the bus, and sits next to you as well. when you arrive back at the school, you don’t immediately go to your dorms, and he suggests grabbing a refreshing drink from somewhere nearby

it’s incredible how you still have so much to talk about

the time passes really quick with him

it’s while you’re having that drink with him, probably iced tea or boba or something, he tells you about his small passion for music, and you make him promise to play you something at some point. he loops his pinky with yours :)

he also confides in you about having been replaced on his last year, and how he tries not to let it affect him but he really can’t help him. from then on, after each of your practices, you invite him in your gym, and have him set to you, just so you both have an excuse to spend time with each other, and so that he gets to practice and play the way he really wants to, without any restrictions placed upon him and no one waiting to take his place

i think as a couple you’d probably really bring out the best in each other, and you’re constantly always, always there for each other. really, really reliant and supportive as partners, you know?

you go to all his games, and whenever he’s pitched in, you scream his name the loudest and cheer him on so much. one look at your face, and he’s reminded of who he is and why he does what he does, and he’s immediately grounded aw <3

shirabu kenjirō

omg shirabu with a crush 🥺🤲🏼 i love it when characters seem so cold and standoffish but as soon as they’re around the people they care about they do a 180. that’s shirabu 100%

he really, really, really liked you. like it was embarrassing at this point. he totally denied it every time anyone even thought it, and he really tried his hardest not to be obvious around you

i like to think he saw you around school and that’s how it developed a little, but maybe you were friends with some of the vbc boys because of your shared interest in the sport, and you come to play with them sometimes after practice, he’d just never be there

but one time you walked in and he was like guess im not leaving

he was a little starstruck at the fact that you played volleyball. he honestly wouldn’t care, but it sorta felt nice that there really was something that you two had in common

and you were good. at everything. you received semi and ushijima’s serves, and goshiki’s and ōhira’s spikes, perfectly, and reacted to tendō’s blocks so well, and hit his tosses just right. you were incredible. maybe your skills were magnified from his specific lens, but there really was no denying you were skilled

damn this. all this.

especially any time you’d spike his toss and give him a really wide smile and say, “nice toss!” like seriously the way his heart’s spasming cannot be healthy what the fuck

and then he finds out the girls are sharing a bus with them, and then you walk in

and then you walk towards him

obviously, outwardly he looks unimpressed and unfazed but trust, his palms are sweaty as fuck

before the bus moves, you stand by his seat and make small talk with him about volleyball, before you realize the bus is moving and you have to sit down, but you’re still in the middle of a conversation with him, so you just sit next to him and continue like nothing happened

he just. allows it.

the school you’d been going to had a really big court where both the girls and boys were playing in the same gymnasium on opposite sides of the court, so when you arrived and changed and all, you were like “wanna warm up together” couple goals <3

pls semi, taichi and tendō would probably tease the fuck out of him lmfao. he’d just glare at them but he has such a big blush on his cheeks as he stretches and warms up with you that the glare is completely ineffective

you go to sit next to him on the bus ride home, but the day’s exhaustion catches up to you, plus the bus’s movements are lulling you, so you end up falling asleep on his shoulder, and when shirabu first notices that you’d actually fallen asleep, he looks down at you with such a dreamy and awestruck face. goshiki took a picture and likes to torment him with it. shirabu has it as his lockscreen now lol

as your boyfriend, he’s the exact same. very standoffish to everyone outwardly but to you? it’s a different story.

nonetheless it’s not very obvious. so yes, he will have a scowl on his face as he tells you off, but his lips are slightly upturned and there’s a little pink shade on his cheeks that show just how endearing he thinks you are

really loves to practice with you because he loves seeing you in your zone like that. also you look hot

anyways yes he’s such a cutie i will not take criticism

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #hq x reader #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa headcanons #sakusa kiyoomi headcanons #semi x reader #semi eita x reader #semi headcanons #semi eita headcanons #shirabu x reader #shirabu kenjiro x reader #shirabu headcanons #shirabu kenjiro headcanons

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master-sass-blast · 3 years

Text

Children of the Gods: Part Three, Chapter Two.

I had to input every single italic you see in this fic by hand because Tumblr doesn’t hold text format when I paste it innnnnn. *pained smile*

Please give this chapter some love, because that was fucking painful to do.

Summary: The aftermath of capturing Allison proves messy -both in dealing with the teen's evident trauma, and in all the skeletons in various closets that get unleashed soon after.

Pairing(s): Piotr Rasputin x Reader, Nathan Summers x Wade Wilson, Frank Castle x Karen Page, and Alexandra Rasputin x Nikolai Rasputin.

Rating: M for gun violence, depictions of death and injuries, depictions of emotional trauma, and gratuitous use of the word “fuck.”

Word count: 8.9k.

Set after “Children of the Gods: Part Three, Chapter One.”

Taglist: @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @super-darkcloudstudent, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @leo-writer, @emma-frxst, @sadstone-s

“What the hell were you thinking!”

“Ooh, careful there, Doohan,” Wade snarks, head rolling to indicate he’s rolling his eyes. “Get any more agitated and you’ll be saying all the no-no words.”

Scott scowls at Wade. “Stuff it, Wilson.”

“Every damn night, laser pointer.”

A mixture of grimaces, sighs, and groans go up through the crowd.

You’re all gathered in the medical wing of Xavier’s –the X-Force and nearly all of the X-Men. Allison’s off being examined by Dr. McCoy and Alyssa –to make sure she’s stable enough to be taken out of the handcuffs and the suppression band—and Frank and Karen are sequestered in a separate room until it's clear how everything's going to shake out.

Because, naturally, there’s been a wrench thrown in the situation.

Or maybe the whole damn toolbox, you mentally amend as Wade and Scott resume arguing.

“We cannot harbor a mob criminal here—”

“She’s thirteen, Summers!” Wade snaps. The eyes on his mask narrow into slits. “She’s not a criminal –and her parents’ choice don’t automatically make her guilty!”

“Murder, illegal theft and possession of firearms, assault, stalking, kidnapping,” Scott starts listing, ticking off each of Allison’s misdeeds on his fingers.

“She lost her family,” Nathan interjects, voice going to gravel. “Where the fuck were all of you when she needed support? Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?”

The room goes silent. Many of the X-Men members look away or hang their heads slightly.

“We had no way of knowing that Allison was a mutant,” Ororo speaks up. “Without the proper information, we can’t help. It’s unfortunate, yes, but out of our control all the same.”

“But you know now,” Wade argues. “You knew with Russell. You knew with all the kids at Essex house. You turned your back on him and those kids, just like you’re turning your back on Allison now.” He scoffs, disgusted. “Same shit, different day. You’re all a bunch of cowardly cocksuckers.”

“We do have limits,” Professor Xavier speaks up from his chair. “Russell and the other members of Essex house were considered wards of the state. Legally, that meant Essex house had custody of them until they turned eighteen. We wrote petitions. We did as much as we could to bring attention to the issue. Unfortunately, it got swept under the rug or stonewalled by anti-mutant members of the legal system. As for Allison…” He sighs. “Taking in wards with criminal connections put the school at risk. Not just for fear of retaliation –as would certainly be a risk with Miss Ricci’s connections to the mafia—but also our funding and licensing. As an orphaned mutant, she is certainly deserving of our help—” he pauses to glare sternly at Scott and a few of the more stubborn, self-righteous members present “—but we have to consider the needs of our other residents and students, too.”

“I think we’re overlooking that Allison is here right now,” Jean pipes up. “Whether or not she stays with us is one thing, but we need to decide what to do for at least the next forty-eight hours.”

“She stays here,” you say automatically. “As far as we know, she has no other guardians, potentially even nowhere to go. I don’t think it’s gonna kill us to give her a bed and some food to eat.”

“Absolutely not,” Scott fires back –and, behind him, Angel and Iceman nod. “She’s far too aggressive to possibly put the students at risk.”

“She’s agitated and traumatized,” you reason, “but that doesn’t mean she’s going to lash out at people left and right.”

“Doesn’t she have a guardian of sorts?” Neena pipes up. “Artemis? Has anyone gotten ahold of them?”

“We reached out with the number Miss Ricci gave us,” Xavier explains. “The call picked up, but there wasn’t any verbal response for the duration of the call.”

Well, that bodes well. “What about her attorney?” you ask. “If we can’t keep her here, wouldn’t her attorney be able to arrange some sort of safe place for her to stay.”

“Thus far, we haven’t been able to reach her attorney.”

And that bodes even worse. You fight the urge to sigh or roll your eyes, and instead mentally curse monkey wrenches and whoever thought to invent the damn things.

“For the time being, I’ve contacted some of our external resources” –the glance Xavier shoots at both you and Piotr tells you that it’s your uncle and Alexandra—“to help with matters until the dust settles. They should be arriving soon, so—”

There’s a loud crash from down the hall, the sound of glass shattering, and an angry screech that sounds suspiciously like, “Fuck you, Castle!”

You give into the urge to sigh before booking it towards the sound of chaos and rage. Great. Now it’s an entire toolshed.

***

Subduing Allison this time, at least, is easier for several reasons.

First, she’s still wearing the repression cuff on her wrist. Without her powers –without a way to pop in and out of this existence, specifically—she’s much easier to catch.

Second, she’s tired. It’s not just the bags under her eyes or the sweat glistening at her furrowed brow. She’s stumbling unevenly, panting as she tries to exact her revenge.

Third, Illyana happens to show up at the exact same time with your uncle and Alexandra (and Nikolai as well, though he has less involvement in the “subduing process”).

Alex reacts fastest. She hooks one strong arm around Allison’s waist, then scoops her away from Karen and a hangdog-looking Frank. “Alright, that’s enough.”

Allison, however, doesn’t seem to agree. (Though whether it’s due to general teenage contrariness or trauma-induced rage, the jury’s still out.

…Actually, it’s probably both.)

“You don’t even get it, Castle!” Allison snaps with a manic grin, eyes wide and haunted. “You killed a good man. My dad was getting out! He was going to testify against them—”

Alex clamps a hand over the teen’s mouth, making her cut herself off with a garbled grunt. “I said enough.”

Allison thrashes in the older woman’s iron-clad grasp –to no avail, unsurprisingly. Her face scrunches up, then her jaw starts flexing. There’s a moment where her expression goes slack when Alex doesn’t react, then her nose scrunches up again and her jaw starts working harder.

Alex sighs, then starts carrying Allison back down the hall (she’s astonishingly unfazed by been chomped down on). “Come on. Let’s get you calmed down, malen’kiy.”

At the other end of the hall, Neena pokes her head into the fray. “Someone who calls herself Artemis is at the front door.”

Professor Xavier nods, then says, “Please escort her back to Miss Ricci’s room,” before wheeling after Alex and Artemis.

You look between Neena and the Professor –then, in the interest of going where you’re actually allowed to be (and not being bored out of your mind because you’ll be literally shut out of the room), you head towards the foyer.

…

“Do you think Frank was set up to stop the trial?”

Your uncle shrugs; the two of you have taken up a spot at the back of the room, where you can watch things unfold and gossip like the two old ladies you are in spirit. “It’s possible. It’s also possible that it was retribution for Allison being a mutant. The Ricci syndicate is notoriously… intolerant.”

You grimace. You certainly understand just how far people will go against their own flesh and blood for intolerance’s sake. “Blood and water.”

Your uncle nods, expression equally sour. “You fucking said it, punk.”

There’s not much point in hashing it out any further –both from the standpoint of “forbidden knowledge” and digging up old trauma—so you settle back into watching Artemis go through the mandatory security check.

She’s tall, with broad shoulders. Her hair’s dark, just starting to streak with silver at the temples, and her eyes are deep, intense, borderline black color. Her nose is slightly crooked –comes with the territory in this walk of life—and she’s dressed in black motorcycle wear and combat boots.

She honestly looks so fucking familiar.

You frown, brows pinching together as you try and place her face in your memory. Failing your own abilities at recollection, you lean over and whisper, “Is she one of your team members? I swear I’ve seen her before.”

“Uh –no,” your uncle replies (and it’s too fast and shaky, but you’re too caught up in figuring out whom the fuck you’re looking at to notice). “I mean –everyone has a doppelganger, right?”

“I guess.” You squint at Artemis, as though physically narrowing your eyes will help your brain puzzle things out—

And then Alex strides into the foyer –wiping the hand that Allison bit, and if you look close enough you’re pretty sure you can still see a few bloody teeth marks—and the cloud of confusion lifts from your mind.

“Oh!” you gasp quietly. “That’s why she looks familiar! She looks like Alex.” You look from the Rasputin matriarch, to the other black-leather clad woman, then back again. “She looks… a lot like Alex, actually.” You laugh softly –coincidence is a hell of a thing—then keep rambling when your uncle doesn’t say anything. “Two women who love the color black and carry enough weapons on their person to stock an army. You’d think the universe broke the mold with Alex, huh?”

Your uncle shifts from foot to foot next to you, but says nothing.

“You really weren’t kidding about the whole ‘doppelganger’ thing, huh.” You cock your head to one side, then frown as another epiphany starts growing in your mind. “Actually… she kind of looks like you, too.”

Your uncle makes a quiet, pained choking noise. “Punk—”

“Yeah, she’s got more of your build…”

“Punk.”

“And her lower lip has that weird lopsided curve like yours—”

“Punk—”

You peer closer at Artemis’s face. “Actually, her nose looks like you took yours and Alex’s and mashed them together—”

“Punk.”

You finally look up at him and take in the pale, wide-eyed, tight-lipped expression on his face. “What?” When he doesn’t say anything, you look at Artemis, then Alex, and then back at him—

Oh God.

Holy fucking shit.

You stare up at your uncle, agape. “Wait a second –you and—”

“Okay, shut the fuck up!” he hisses, panicked, before dragging you out of the foyer and into the nearest hallway.

“You and Alex had a baby,” you blurt –albeit in a voice no louder than a harsh whisper. “Artemis is your and her lovechild!”

He winces, then holds up his hands. “I can explain—”

“I don’t think you can!” you hiss. “Why didn’t you tell me that I have a cousin who happens to be my husband’s half fucking sister! Oh God, does Piotr know? Do any of the Rasputins know?”

“I…” He trails off, then cringes. He rubs the back of his neck. “I’m not sure, actually.”

You stare up at him, dumbfounded. “You’re not sure. How are you not sure? Nick knows who you are –what, you think Alex just kept a whole child from his knowledge—”

“I mean, he probably knows that there was a baby at one point—”

“The baby is in this fucking house!” you snap in a quiet growl, arms flailing wildly. “She’s a full grown adult who probably pays taxes and has a 401k going! Why wouldn’t Alex tell her husband—”

“Look,” your uncle interjects, cutting you off. “As far as Alex knows… she thinks she’s… dead?”

You gape. Then, as quietly as you can manage (given the circumstances), you exclaim, “What the fuck!”

“Keep your voice down!” your uncle hisses, gesturing wildly in panic. He looks over his shoulder, then when he’s certain no one overheard you, he sighs and looks back to you. “Look, it’s a long story—”

“I’m sure it fucking is!” You cross your arms over your chest when he winces. “How is it that you know your secret lovechild is alive, but Alex doesn’t? What, did she just abandon her?”

“No, no—”

“Didn’t think so. So what the fuck happened?”

He sighs, shoulder slumping, and runs one hand through his already disheveled hair. “Look –long story short, the people who ‘made’ Alex took the baby—”

“Artemis. Her daughter. Your daughter.”

He purses his lips, but concedes with a nod. “They took her away after she was born and told Alex she was dead –and that’s actually what prompted her to get out, but that’s another story for another day—”

“Okay, hang on a second.” You squeeze your eyes shut and hold up one hand. “Alex thinks her baby is dead –probably one of the most traumatic things in her whole life. You’ve known that she’s alive…” You open your eyes again and fix your uncle with a stern stare. “Okay, how long have you known for?”

He grimaces and shifts uncomfortably. “…well, the US took her, but she didn’t present early, so they turned her loose into the foster system because she didn’t have potential as an ‘asset’—”

“How fucking long?”

He ducks his head, carefully avoiding your gaze. “…tracked her down when she was ten.”

Your eyes widen –and then you slug him in the shoulder. “You fucking colossal asshole!”

He panics again, motioning for you to keep it down while checking over his shoulder. “Shut the fuck up!”

“No! Not only have you lied to Alex for decades—”

“She never asked—”

“A lie by omission is still a fucking lie!” you snap in a gravelly whisper. “So, not only did you lie to her, but you also abandoned your daughter to the mercies of the US foster care system!”

“My life wasn’t safe to keep a kid around!” he hisses back at you. “I couldn’t take care of you, and I couldn’t take care of her! If anything, it was safer for her if the government thought I didn’t know she was alive!”

You sigh, pinch the bridge of your nose, and wave dismissively with your other hand. “Okay –fine. That still doesn’t justify the whole lying thing, but whatever. Does Artemis know that you and Alex are her parents?”

“…Yes. She tracked me down when she was in her twenties and I told her the truth.”

“Well, it sounds like determination runs in the family,” you mutter. “But at least you two have kept in touch…” You look up, see your uncle’s grimace, and sigh. “You didn’t keep in touch with her.”

He shoves his hands in his jacket pockets. “I didn’t know how to handle it.”

“Pretty sure ‘not like that’ is a good answer.” You sigh again, then shrug and put your hands on your hips. “Well, you’ve probably solved your own problem. She’ll probably just tell Alex who she is just to spite you, assuming she got the ‘petty vengeance’ gene too.”

Your uncle’s eyebrows spike to his hairline, and his expression goes through the five stages of grief in a matter of seconds. “She –she can’t—”

“She can and she probably will.”

He hunches over, crouching, and grips the back of his head. “Shitfuckshitfuckshitfuckshitfuck—”

“Myshka?”

You and your uncle both jump, then whirl in unison and give your husband your best convincing, “we’re totally not talking about long lost, hidden family members and other poor life choices” smiles that you can each manage.

(Consider that you don’t look like you just shit your pants, you win.)

Piotr’s forehead wrinkles with concern. “What… is everything alright?”

“Just fine, baby,” you assure him, subtly kicking your uncle so he relaxes. “Just talking about what happens next.”

Piotr nods after a moment, likely picking up on that whatever’s going on right now isn’t life or death and that you’ll fill him in later. “I actually came to find you,” he says, gesturing to your uncle. “Professor Xavier still cannot reach Allison’s lawyer. He has asked for your assistance.”

“Right. Absolutely. On it,” your uncle says with a none-too-convincing smile. He shoots your husband a pair of finger guns, then books it out of the hall and towards the medical wing of the mansion.

Piotr stares after him, then shoots you a confused frown. “Is he okay?”

You shrug. “He’s doing about his usual.” You decide to further sidestep the issue by ambling over to him and giving him a gentle hug. “How are you?” Are doing okay?”

Piotr wraps his arms around you and kisses the top of your head. “I am fine now. Just a little sore.”

“Me too.” You nuzzle your cheek against his burly chest. “We really should invest in that hot tub we keep talking about getting. It’d be great for post-mission recovery.”

“Hot tubs are expensive, myshka,” he chuckles.

“Yes, but we’re not getting any younger. It’d be a good investment in taking care of our bodies.” You tilt your head back and grin up at him. “I thought you were all about that life.”

He sighs and shakes his head, feigning exasperation, but his amused smile is a dead giveaway. “Whatever shall I do with you, myshka?”

You grin wider. “You could kiss me.”

Piotr grins back, then dips his head and presses his lips against yours—

Mikhail appears next to you out of thin air. “Ah. Gross. Big meeting is happening. All hands on deck.”

Piotr rolls his eyes when his elder brother teleports away once more, then looks back down at you and strokes your cheek with his thumb. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine, baby.” You unwind your arms from his massive trunk of a torso, then slide your fingers between his as the two of you walk towards the medical wing.

…

“—I am telling you, Charles, not being able to reach this kid’s lawyer is a bad fucking sign.”

You and Piotr walk into a conference room to find your uncle and Professor Xavier locked in a heated argument.

Wade, Nate, and Neena are leaning against the table to watch, occasionally leaning over to whisper bits of commentary to each other (or, in Wade’s case, speak at normal volume).

In the corner of the room, where a couple of armchairs are positioned, Nikolai sits with his two other children; they’re speaking in hushed Russian, but none of them seem too concerned about everything else going on.

“As I previously stated,” Xavier says, words clipped, “we cannot release Miss Ricci without speaking first to her attorney. The X-Men operate as a special law enforcement service, and failure to comply with criminal and civil statutes will have enormous consequences for the Institute—”

“There’s going to be a bunch of fucking ‘enormous consequences’ for the Institute,” your uncle interrupts, growling through clenched teeth, “if you don’t evacuate this building right fucking now! Fuck’s sake, Charles –you hired me as a security advisor; just listen to me.”

Piotr frowns and curls one hand over your shoulder. “What is happening?”

“What’s happening,” a new, strong, feminine voice interjects from the hall, “is that we’re leaving.” Artemis shoulders past your husband –a feat not easily achieved by many—with Allison in tow, then holds up the teen’s arm that has the repression cuff still attached. She glares at Xavier (and God, she really looks like Alex when she does that), then spits out through gritted, bared teeth, “Get this fucking thing off my kid.”

There’s a longsuffering sigh in the hall, and then Alex steps into the doorway. “She has that cuff on for her own safety –as I already told you—”

Artemis whirls, face contorted by a vicious scowl, and snaps, “I didn’t fucking ask for you input!”

(Boy, if that doesn’t just scream ‘repressed trauma and mommy issues.’)

Your uncle looks like he’s about to pass out again, but Alex seems remarkably nonplussed. She merely raises one eyebrow at Artemis, as if to say ‘that’s all you got?’

There’s no way she knows, you think as you watch the two stare each other down. Not with how much she cares about her kids. There’s no fucking way—

“Actually, we’ve got bigger problems,” your uncle pipes up, voice quavering slightly before he clears his throat. “We can’t reach your kid’s shark.”

“They have other clients,” Artemis retorts, upper lip curling in a derisive sneer. Her dark eyes smolder with barely constrained hatred as she tosses a withering glance in his direction (daddy issues, too, this chick won the whole lottery). “Or maybe they got stuck in traffic.”

Your uncle narrows his eyes at that (and now the two of them look so much alike, overcome by ire as they are). “You cannot possibly be that fucking stupid.”

Artemis sucks a breath through her teeth, eyes widening with rage and hurt. “You fucking dick—”

In the corner of the room, Illyana bolts upright before going stock still. Then, she gasps and reaches out towards her mother. “Mama!”

(The way Artemis’s face mars with a pained grimace makes your heart ache.)

Alex tenses, eyes glowing gold as she starts scanning the horizon (presumably checking for heat signatures). “Gde?”

The room goes quiet –and then you hear it.

The sound of engines rumbling –multiple engines—and car wheels crunching against gravel. Doors thumping open and shut, followed by footsteps. Hushed voices.

You scamper over to the nearest window and float up, just enough to see several men clad in black and Kevlar and carrying rifles stalking towards the front door and around the sides of the house in groups. “Guys with guns. Lots of them.”

“Then get down!” Nate hisses before yanking you back from the window.

“Lights out,” Alex orders before hitting the switch herself. “Get everyone to a reinforced room.”

“There’s a safe room at the end of the hall,” Xavier says before wheeling himself towards the door.

Allison clings to Artemis’s sleeve, much like a baby koala. “What’s going on? What’s going to happen?”

“Go with the Professor,” Artemis says. She quickly –but gently—frees her arm, then clasps the teen’s face with both hands. “Look at me. Listen to the Professor, and stay put until I come get you. Okay?”

Allison’s forehead puckers, and her lower lip starts trembling. “But—”

“Is alright,” Nikolai interjects with a kind, reassuring smile. He gently ushers Allison towards the door, then down the hall before she can protest further.

A few doors down, Karen pokes her head out of the room where she and Frank have holed up. She frowns as she takes in the chaos. “What’s going on?”

“Mafia men with guns!” Wade chirps as he half-skips, half-jogs towards the mansion’s entryway. “Tell your boy to suit up!”

“There’s a safe room at the end of the hall,” Neena adds as she runs after Wade.

Frank squeezes around Karen and kisses her temple before falling in line behind the two assassins.

You step to the side so Karen can run past you, then turn and press a hasty kiss against Piotr’s cheek. “Love you.”

He kisses your cheek in return, equally as brief. “Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu.”

And then the two of you run towards the danger bearing down on your home.

***

In all the firefights you’ve been in, there’s always this moment of silence. A calm before the storm. A moment where everything goes still, while both sides wait for the other to make a move.

You duck behind a wall as the mafia gunmen continue hammering away at the front door, tucking yourself in a shadow. Your stomach tenses, breathing going quick and hard as your mind starts putting a plan together. Don’t want to risk collapsing part of the house by doing a pressure vacuum. Best option is to probably knock them to the ground so the others can jump them.

The door rattles. The wooden portal splits on one side, sending jagged splinters poking out into the air.

You slow your breathing, forcing yourself into a calm, focused state. Wait for them to get past the entryway so you can hit as many of them as possible.

In the back of the house, near the kitchen, you hear glass shatter.

They’re in. You clench your fists at your sides, watching as the front door slowly gives way. Three… two… one…

The door breaks open, swinging inwards as the first gunmen step into the foyer—

And then the door snaps off its hinges and slams into the men, taking them out like bowling pins.

Strike, a small, inane part of your brain giggles.

Shouts go up through the house. You can hear the sounds of rushed footsteps, shattering glass, and what sounds like people being bodyslammed through tables (and, given the type of people fighting for your side, it just might be that). Gunfire pierces the air –and is accompanied by the telltale, metallic plinks of the bullets ricocheting off your husband’s armor.

Angry screams emanate from the front step. Men barge in, firing down the hall, towards some unseen target (likely Alex or Nate, given the door trick).

You wait until as many men are piled into the foyer as possible, then send down a downdraft that blows out the windows on either side of the door.

The gunmen tumble to the floor, swearing in a mixture of English and Italian.

Nate, Wade, and Neena swoop in. They descend upon the mafia men like a pack of wolves, breaking bones, dislocating joints, and cracking skulls as they disarm –and, in some cases “un-alive”—the gunmen.

“It’s raining men!” Wade sings as he runs one of his katanas through the gut of one assailant. “Hallelujah! It’s raining men!” He ramps off a nearby wall, then t-bags another man before stabbing him through the temple. “Amen!”

You crouch, tracking the movement of the scuffle. You tense when you see a couple of the men jump Nathan, then charge towards the railing and dive over when a few more try to break past to run down the hallway. You flip in the air, land in the hallway ahead of them, and unleash a blast of wind right in their faces.

The mafia men fly out through the front door. They sail over half the front drive, then bounce off the gravel surface and roll several times before coming to a stop.

You let out a harsh breath, then dart down the hall towards the kitchen when you hear glass shattering and the sound of Frank bellowing angrily.

The kitchen and rec room are a mess. Glass shards from shattered windows coat the floor, glittering before being crushed underfoot. Doors are cracked from having people slammed into them. The rec room couch is overturned –and is sagging suspiciously on one side, hinting at a cracked frame. The entertainment system is shattered, with smoking bullet holes littering the TV, speakers, and media systems.

Frank has one of the guys pinned down over the sink. He’s snarling as he uses the lip of the sink to choke the guy out. There’s blood smeared his lips and chins, trailing back up to his chin.

Another gunman stalks in through the dining room, gun trained on Frank’s head.

You whip a blast of air at the second man, sending him sailing into the wall so hard the drywall cracks.

He drops to the ground, unconscious.

There’s some terrified shrieking –and then a gunman is punted up and out of the basement stairwell. He sails through the kitchen window headfirst, crumpling in a heap in the hedges outside.

Your husband storms up the staircase, teeth bared in an angry snarl. The waning daylight glints off his metal exterior, almost making him look like some sort of avenging angel. He stops short when he sees you, though; his irate expression vanishes, replaced by concern. “Ty v poryadke?”

You manage a smile and flash him a thumbs up—

And then a truck with a Gatling gun strapped to the roof rolls up to the back door.

“Get down!” Frank hollers before tackling you to the ground behind the kitchen island.

The room explodes into chaos. Bullets plow into the walls, sending up spurts of drywall dust in their wake. Wooden doorframes and floorboards crack, unleashing cascades of splinters in every direction. Glass shatters, raining down upon everything in its reach.

Frank positions himself over you, shielding you as fragmented bullets rain down upon your both. He cups your head with his hands, doing his best to protect you from the hellfire.

Over the din, you can just make out a loud, angry bellow –and then the sound of bullets hitting metal. Heavy, deliberate stomps make the floor shake.

The gunfire cuts off. A shriek pierces the air just before you hear what sounds like a car being tossed into a tree.

(As you’ll discover later, that’s precisely what you heard.)

Frank lifts his head, then carefully rolls off you. He crouches next to you and holds out a hand. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Your ears are ringing, and you’re pretty sure you’ve got glass shards and splinters in your hair, but you’ve been worse. You take his hand, flinching when you hear the sound of more gunfire outside.

Frank peers over the lip of the island. “Reinforcements. At least five more cars headed our way.”

You suck in a breath. “Piotr—”

“Is holding his own for now,” Frank says.

“I’m gonna help him,” you rasp out. “Make sure everyone in the house that’s not on our side… stays down. And that we’ve still got all our people.”

Frank nods, then runs off towards the foyer.

You catch your breath, then creep towards the back door (better safe than sorry). You flatten yourself against the wall next to the doorway, then peer around the broken frame.

Piotr’s facing off against the new influx of cars. He’s got one hand on the hood of one Range Rover, arm extended out like he’s fending off a five-year-old. With his other hand, he flips another SUV over, causing the thing to land on its roof and putting the vehicle squarely out of commission.

Your stomach sinks when five more Range Rovers tear across the lawn, leaving deep, muddy tracks in their wake –and are followed by three more trucks with Gatling guns attached to the roofs. You sprint out the door, take a flying leap over Piotr, then send out a shockwave of air when you land on the ground.

A few of the cars fly backwards, rolling across the lawn like tumbleweeds. A majority of them, however, manage to stay upright or bump into each other and recover.

Your eyes widen when one of the Gatling gun operators aims directly at you. Shit.

Piotr leaps in front of you, whirling so his back is to the gun. He curls his body over yours, shielding you as gunfire rains down on you both.

You grit your teeth, grunting. You can feel the impact of the gunfire resonating through your husband’s metal body. Worry clutches at your heart when Piotr lets out sharp, ragged groans; he’s largely invulnerable in his armor, not to mention his sense of touch is severely dulled, but you know that with shit like this he’s still feeling some sort of pain –and there’s nothing you can do. You’re both pinned down, and as powerful as your shockwaves are, they’re not enough to stop or even skew the trajectory of a bullet—

Blue light washes over both of you. The sound of the gunfire wanes, replaced by warbling, pinging noises instead.

You peer around Piotr’s side to see Illyana standing between the two of you and the oncoming cars. She has her arms outstretched, palms facing the onslaught of adversaries. A shimmering, sky blue shield with various magical incantations floating through it surrounds all of you, stretching into the sky for at least forty feet.

Illyana grunts. She’s being shoved backwards from the force of impact from the bullets. Her feet are digging into the ground, leaving ruts as she tries to hold her stance. “We need new plan!”

“How about ‘stay alive?’” Piotr shouts back as he digs shrapnel out of the grooves on his arms.

Wade, Neena, Nate, and Frank come barreling out the back door, faces streaked with soot and blood. They dive for the ground, covering the backs of their heads and necks with their hands—

An explosion goes off inside the mansion. The shockwave shatters windows on both the first and second floor, blowing out window frames and trim.

Piotr covers your body with his once more. He cups your head with his hand, shielding you from the falling debris and the worst of the shockwave.

You cough and hack as smoke billows out the broken windows and doors. You do your best to make a vortex to suck the smoke away and send it up into the air. Your lungs burn, and your ears are ringing like a bell from all the gunfire and the explosion—

Four more gunmen emerge from the smoke pouring out the back door.

You snarl, then whip blasts of air at them, slamming them into the exterior walls of the house.

One of them goes down, while the other three are merely stunned.

Mikhail comes barreling out next. He lets out a guttural battle cry, then sucker punches one of the men in the back of the head before aiming a blast of rust colored energy at another’s gut.

The man screams as he sails into the air, arcing over the tree line and disappearing somewhere in the canopies.

The third man aims his gun at Mikhail –then staggers and drops to the ground when a beam of golden energy sears through his chest.

Alex storms out of the smoke with Artemis and your uncle trailing close behind her. She glares down the remaining gunmen and cars, teeth bared in a vicious snarl. Blood is flecked across her face and spattered over her leather jacket. “House is clear!”

“Yeah, except now we’re about to be cleared out!” Wade hollers back. “As in, ‘all sales final, no returns, no exchanges!’”

“If we could make plan,” Illyana screams, voice strained with the effort of holding the shield, “would be very great!”

You look over to Alex –and see her eyes widen. You whirl towards the gunmen just in time to see one of them aim a rocket launcher at all of you. “Oh, for the love of—”

The first hit is technically deflected by Illyana’s shield, insomuch that the projectile and the shield both shatter the moment they meet. The force of the magic breaking sends out a shockwave of blue energy that flies backwards into all of you, knocking those who managed to get up back off their feet and stunning the rest of you.

You groan, head reeling. Your vision clears slowly, casting double images when you move too quickly. Shit.

You can make out Piotr, just next to you. He’s lying face down on the lawn, grunting and moving in slow, clumsy movements. He turns his head, brow furrowing when he sees you, and reaches out towards you.

You extend your hand to grab his –but he’s just out of your reach, no matter how far you strain. Your body feels heavy with fatigue and pain; everything inside you is screaming to get up, to fight, to keep moving because death is knocking right on your door, and you’ll be damned if this is how you go out—

Alex recovers first –no surprise there. She shoves herself to her feet, seething and growling like a feral beast. She hurls a blast of energy at one of the cars –and, from the sounds of the carnage, makes a direct hit. She storms towards the sea of mafia men like an avenging angel, hell bound on vengeance and blood.

Audible gasps go up from the amassed assassins.

You lift your head to see several of the gunmen backing away from the mansion and crossing themselves with shaking hands. You chalk it up to Alex being Alex, and make to drop your head back against the ground once more—

And then you see Allison standing in the ruined doorway.

She’s glaring down the gunmen with a viciousness that doesn’t suit the youthful roundness of her face. Her brows are knit together, and her mouth is twisted into an ugly scowl. Her eyes are glowing a brilliant shade of blue and give off little wisps of azure colored smoke. Her skin and hair are smoking as well, creating an aura around her body. Blood drips down from her nose and onto her shirt –which is stained with ash and soot. There are burn marks and indents on her wrists from where the repression cuff and the handcuffs used to be, respectively, but the restraints themselves are gone.

The ground begins to shake. Two patches of cerulean light appear underneath the grass, growing larger until they form swirling vortexes of magical energy. The ground begins to crumble at the edges of the portals, eroding away and growing wider until they make gaping tunnels that channel so deeply into the earth there’s no telling how far they truly go.

You recoil when the smell of sulfur and smoke blenches forth from the tunnels. Shit, did she hit a gas line? Fucking dammit, like this day can get any worse—

Echoing, blood-chilling howls emanate from the tunnels.

Your eyes widen –and then your heart starts working overtime when you see two, then four massive hellhounds (like the ones Allison summoned at the mall) crawl out of the tunnels.

Shrieks of terror sound from the gunmen. Several take off running, while others try to shoot the beasts.

The hounds snap and snarl at the gunmen, then charge at the group. Two of them go off after the runners, while the other two start lunging after the assassins like they’re rabbits.

You stare at the chaos in disbelief –and then a set of strong hands grab you underneath the arms.

“Get up.” You uncle tugs you to your feet, keeping you steady when you stumble. “You can’t be in the flow of traffic for this.”

Behind you, Allison is panting like she’s run a marathon. The aura of blue smoke is growing around her, trailing into the air and floating over the ground. Veins of light spread across her face and arms, glowing the same shade of vibrant blue as her eyes. Her breathing grows louder and more ragged, until she’s growling and shaking with each exhale— and then she screams.

Much like the first confrontation in the cemetery, all those months ago, the scream unleashes a shockwave of blue energy. This time, though, the shockwave is far from a decoy for escape. It washes over you, the X-Force, your uncle, the other Rasputins, Frank, and Artemis harmlessly enough –then slams into the mafia forces and vehicles like the wall of a hurricane.

Alex charges after the shockwave, carefully trailing behind it. She waits until it clears the first line of gunmen, then slams her fist into the face of the man closest to her. She blocks his attempt to strike her, then twists his arm –dislocating the shoulder, which makes him shriek in pain. Then, she wrenches his rifle away from him. She shoots him once in the center of his forehead, then turns the firearm on his fellow men and keeps firing.

Mikhail and Artemis go after the one surviving Gatling gun. Mikhail teleports onto the truck bed; he sweeps the back of one man’s jacket over his head, effectively blinding him, then kicks the other man present in the balls before shoving him over the side of the truck.

Artemis, on the other hand, stops a few feet away from the truck. She uses her telekinesis to rip the Gatling gun off its mount, then yanks the driver out through the windscreen –headfirst, no less—and dumps him on the lawn.

He doesn’t get back up.

“Come on,” your uncle says, pointing towards the further reaches of the property, where some of the gunmen are still trying to outrun the hellhounds. “Let’s give the dogs a helping hand.”

The two of you reach out, creating a wind current that slices through the air and slams into the stragglers.

The men careen into nearby hedges –and the hellhounds have it from there.

The familiar sonic blast of Nathan’s gun rips through the air. The shot slams into the last remaining SUV, rendering the vehicle to little more than glass shards and mangled metal.

The back lawn and gardens fall silent, save for the sounds of groans of pain and the hellhounds chewing on various gunmen.

Mikhail takes a fall off the back of the truck bed. He flops onto the ruined grass below, limbs splaying like a rag doll’s. “Alright. Is time for nap. Wake me… never.”

Illyana scoffs from where she’s sat next to a smoldering bush. She picks up a nearby stone, then chucks it at her eldest brother’s head (and hits her target, no less). “There is still clean up. Bezdel'nik.”

Mikhail flips her off, then groans as he rubs the bridge of his nose.

“She’s right,” Alex lectures her eldest as she picks her way through the carnage. She nudges one body with the toe of her combat boot, then shoots him through the temple when he groans.

“Mama!” Piotr gapes at her, expression scandalized. He sputters, looking between her and the body at her feet.

“Chto? Vy khotite yego zhivym? Chtoby on mog dolozhit' svoim khozyayevam? Chtoby on mog obrushit' adskiy ogon' na etu shkolu i vsekh, kogo vy lyubite? No –no.” She holds up her index finger and stares sternly at Piotr when he tries to argue. “You do not leave enemies on your six o’clock, medvezhonok. First rule of survival.”

Piotr swallows hard, then says softly, “X-Men do not kill.”

Alex shrugs. “And I am not an X-Man.”

“We’ll handle it,” Nathan says. He holds his hand out for Alex’s rifle, nodding when she hands it to him after a moment’s hesitation.

(Wade and Frank are already working their way through the sea of dead and wounded. Frank’s traversing the chaos methodically, sticking to minimal shots to kill the survivors, while Wade’s alternating between singing “Dancing Queen” and getting post-mortem revenge.

“You shot my dick off inside!” Wade gasps as he peers down at a –slightly chewed on—corpse. “Extra bullets for you!” He then shoots the dead body several times before resuming his pitchy serenade.)

“What now?” Allison asks, staring out at the carnage with a slightly shocked expression.

“‘What now?’” Artemis repeats, laughing incredulously. She stomps towards Allison, pulling a pack of tissues out of her inner jacket pocket. “What the hell are you even doing out here? You were supposed to stay in the safe room—”

“They had cameras in there,” Allison says with a roll of her eyes, as if that justifies her decision to join the fracas. “You guys were getting your asses kicked.”

“We would’ve handled it.”

“Yeah, except you weren’t,” Allison fires back. She scrunches up her face when Artemis starts wiping the blood off her face, but otherwise takes the mothering without any complaint.

“It’s not your responsibility to deal with this shit,” Artemis says, voice and expression softening for a moment. She cleans up Allison’s face –then scowls. “And where the fuck are your cuffs? How did you even get out of them?”

Allison shrugs. “I used my powers to short the repression cuff out and ash it off.”

Illyana’s, Alex’s, and your uncle’s heads all snap around to stare at Allison.

“Are you kidding me?” Artemis hisses through clenched teeth. “You could’ve fucking killed yourself!”

“Or caused magical paradox that ripped hole in space-time continuum,” Illyana snaps.

“Ruptured blood vessels in your brain and caused an aneurysm, made the cuff deliver a lethal electrical shock, turned your magic against your own body and rendered yourself to ash,” your uncle continues, ticking off items on his fingers.

“Well, I didn’t do any of that!” Allison snarls, glaring at the others while Artemis keeps cleaning up her face. “And I made sure you losers won the fight –so fuck off!”

“Get her something to eat and drink,” Alex says. “Her blood sugar is bound to be low after pulling a stunt like that.”

Artemis glares at Alex and opens her mouth to respond—

Across the yard, Wade lets out a pained shriek. “My balls are not fetch toys! Bad Fido! Bad!”

Your eyes widen as you watch one of the hellhounds swing Wade around by his legs. You bite down on your lip, holding in a shock-induced laugh.

“Where’s this mutt’s off-switch –hey, hey! No!” Wade wriggles in the hellhound’s mouth, panicking as another beast bounds towards him. “My spine is not a tug toy! Can someone get rid of Fido and Rufus before they rip me in half!”

Allison snorts –then, before anyone can stop her, holds out her hand and flicks her wrist.

All four hellhounds melt back into the ground, disappearing to the depths of hell from whence they came.

Artemis swears under her breath, then catches the teen when she stumbles. She moves frantically, grabbing more tissues as blood starts pouring out of Allison’s nose once more. “You fucking idiot. Why the fuck did you do that? When are you going to fucking learn that you’re not invincible—”

Allison lets out a sharp, hoarse laugh –then passes out.

…

The wreckage inside the mansion is heartbreaking.

You stare at the ruined furniture, the scorched walls, the splintered doors, the ruined rec room and kitchen, and you have to wonder what was the fucking point?

Part of you understands that the mafia came prepared for war; they were going up against powerful mutants, so –naturally—they would want to be prepared. Having the strongest, most powerful weapons available increased their chances of success. Logically –from a strictly tactical standpoint—it makes sense.

Glass crunches under your shoes. You stare down at a litany of fallen picture frames, heart wrenching as you stare at the ruined pictures of graduates, students, and workers inside. We’re just a school. We work with kids. What was the point of trying to wipe us out?

Piotr ambles up behind you. He puts his arms around your shoulders and kisses the top of your head. “Cleaners and repairmen will be here in less than one hour.”

You feel numb. You place your hand on his arm. “That’s good.”

“We have back ups of pictures,” he murmurs. He kisses your cheek. “Insurance to cover replacing damaged items. We will be fine.”

“I know.” You sigh, leaning back against your husband’s chest. “We’re just a school. What… what was the point? Why try to wipe us out?”

“I do not know.” Piotr kisses your other cheek, hugging you reassuringly. “Perhaps they believed we knew information about ‘family business.’ Or that we were protecting Allison for some reason.”

“She’s just a kid,” you argue, voice breaking as your grief and exhaustion wells up and threatens to overtake you. “She’s only thirteen…”

Piotr says nothing, merely holds you closer.

You sigh—

And then a door slams. Hurried stomps echo down the hall. There’s creaking as a door opens again, followed by more footsteps and exasperated shouts.

Allison storms past you and Piotr, heading towards the kitchen. Her jaw is set, fists clenched at her sides.

You and Piotr look at each other –then follow after her, if only to be sure that nothing else is going to explode today.

She slams her hands down on the island counter –and, on the opposite side, Frank and Karen both flinch and stare at her warily.

Allison glares at Frank, jaw working convulsively. Her shoulders heave with each breath she takes. Her eyes shine with unshed tears, making the bags underneath seem darker and deeper by comparison. She trembles, expression flickering wildly between grief, white hot rage, and the neutral mask she’s trying so desperately to hold. She sucks in a breath that sounds more like a pained sob, then stares Frank down and spits out through gritted teeth, “You leave my people alone, I leave yours alone. Deal?”

Frank sighs. He nods, expression heavy with grief and eyes shining with remorse. “Yeah, kid. You got a deal.”

Allison clenches the edge of the island so hard her hands go white. She lets out a strangled, angry laugh as the tears finally start to fall. She ducks her head briefly, then glares back up at Frank. “I fucking hate you.”

Frank grimaces, but nods and says, “I know kid. It’s okay. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“That ain’t worth shit.”

“I know… believe me, I know.”

Artemis –who’d previously been watching at the kitchen threshold—steps forward and puts her arm around Allison’s shoulders. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go.”

Allison clenches her teeth together, but still lets out a choked sob. She presses her lips together, looking around the room to try and regain her composure, to stop the flow of tears. She manages a deep breath, then takes one last look at Frank and snarls, “If I have to see your fucking face again, I’m ripping out your guts,” before storming out of the room.

Frank, to his credit, doesn’t respond (though you suspect he feels too guilty to even consider arguing). He merely hangs his head, expression that of a kicked dog.

Karen leans against him. She interlocks her fingers with his, murmuring in his ear (likely about how it isn’t his fault, and while it looks like that may technically be the case, you’re glad you don’t have to walk the spider’s silk of a line those facts lie upon).

What a shitshow.

Piotr puts an arm around your shoulders and gently leads you out of the kitchen. “Come on, myshka. Let’s go find spot to rest.”

…

Frank and Karen leave shortly after “making the deal” with Allison.

Allison and Artemis hang back for a bit to talk to Xavier. You don’t get all the gorey details but from what you can tell, it’s essentially an offer to help train Allison’s powers so she doesn’t hurt herself rolled in with a warning to keep her nose clean, stay on the straight and narrow, etcetera etcetera.

The sun’s just starting its descent from the sky before the two of them walk out of the meeting room.

Allison is wearing Artemis’s jacket and looks downright haggard.

Artemis has her arm around the teen and is gently guiding her while she talks to Xavier (though, perhaps the term “talk” is too generous, considering most of her responses are nods or terse, one-to-two word replies).

The rest of the Rasputin family, you, Piotr, and your uncle are all gathered in the foyer to make sure Allison and Artemis leave without too much trouble (or causing more trouble themselves).

Your uncle is sweating bullets and looks like he just shit his pants; he’s glancing between Alex and their daughter so fast it’s a miracle he hasn’t given himself a headache yet.

Now or never, you think, watching him with pursed lips. Tell your secrets before they’re told for you.

Alex kneels down next to Allison. “Are you okay?”

Allison’s gaze doesn’t leave the floor. “The fuck do you think?”

She quirks her mouth to the side. “Not all that good.” Alex ducks her head lower, trying to catch Allison’s gaze. “You remember what we talked about?”

Allison’s eyes narrow. She moves her gaze away from Alex. “Go to hell. I know what I know.”

“Sometimes… it’s better to not,” Alex says. She stares at Allison for a moment longer, then pats her shoulder before standing and walking away.

Artemis stares after Alex, expression morphing rapidly between fury and shock. She sputters for a moment before snapping, “What –that’s all you have to fucking say?”

Alex pauses, turning slightly so she can see Artemis. She raises one eyebrow, otherwise looking unbothered. “Is there something else I should be saying?”

“You don’t have anything to say to me?” Artemis presses, crossing her arms over her chest. “Nothing at all?”

“Is there something you want me to say to you?” Alex fires back, smirking slightly.

Artemis stares at Alex for a long, hard moment. She shakes her head, eyes welling up with tears, then turns her glare onto your uncle. “You really didn’t fucking tell her.”

“What?” Alex’s expression sobers, going wary as she looks between your uncle and Artemis. “What didn’t you—”

“This really isn’t the time or place—” Your uncle tries.

And here it goes.

“I’ve gotta do all the work, then,” Artemis snarls with a vicious smile. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense, considering I’m not your favorite,” she tacks on with an angry glare towards you. She storms towards Alex, one hand outstretched, with a cruel, angry smile stretched across her face. “Hey, mom. How’s it going?”

Alex’s eyes widen. She stares at Artemis, eyes tracking over the younger woman’s face. “What…”

“You fucking heard me.”

Illyana, Piotr, and Mikhail look at each other, then at Alex, then at Nikolai. They explode into confused Russian, gesturing between their parents, Artemis, and your uncle—

Realization dawns in Alex’s dark eyes. Her expression trembles, tears welling up in her eyes as she stares at Artemis’s face.

And then she uses her telekinesis to yank your uncle over and decks him.

#sass writes #piotr rasputin x reader #colossus x reader #nathan summers x wade wilson #frank castle x karen page #alexandra rasputin x nikolai rasputin #love me some soap opera style drama #and frankly so does marvel #and honestly if marvel can have whatever tf infinity war and endgame were i can have this #probably shouldn't have built alex's whole backstory and have it be outside the scope of this series bUT OH WELL #deadpool fanfiction #x men fanfiction

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heyitsmerose · 4 years

Text

Ateez reaction to a fan with Smudged Lipstick (Maknae Line)

Okay, I decided to write an imagine that didn’t include y/n and the members being in a relationship, because that too unrealistic, but then again this isn’t any more realistic so I don’t really know. Okay also, I think I may be starting to run out of ideas, please send in your requests I’ll make sure to do all that I can! :)

Word Count: 2k

Genre: Fluff, Whump

Mature Language*

San:

You couldn’t beleive your luck. You had been selected for one of the ‘82′ challenges that Ateez were featuring on, and as a lucky guest, they had to do your makeup. (Inspired by this video) You were living every atiny’s dream right now. You got to personally interact with Ateez, and they would be doing your makeup. To be honest, before applying to get this opportunity, you didn’t really know what it was going to be, after you found out they were doing your make up though, you started getting a little nervous. They would have to see your bare face and you were quite insecure. Although your skin was really clear, you had freckles and covered them up when you could so it would be hard for you to show the world your bare face.

You were sitting and waiting in the studio for the first member and Hongjoong walked in. You tried your best to keep your composure only to fail miserably. Hongjoong looked at you directly, and you immediately felt shy covering your face. He noticed and removed your hands assuring you that you had no reason to feel shy. He was the first one, so he had to put foundation, this was the scariest part. He was going to have to stare at your face for very long. You got nervous and insecure and he seemed to notice how you covered your face whenever you got the opportunity. He asked you and you said you were insecure about your freckles, but he just gasped telling you not to worry as your bare face was pretty. Once he was done, he went back to the other room, he made sure to tell the rest of the members about your insecurity, so they could try to cheer you up. You definitely noticed the extra jokes they cracked and the compliments they gave you.

Finally it was San’s turn and he was to apply lipstick. He picked a soft pink colour and you nodded at his choice. He then came very close to your face and began applying lipstick. He held your chin with his index finger and thumb as he slowly started applying it. He made the mistake of looking up into your eyes though, because as soon as he did, you both burst into laughter. This caused, his hand to shake and go off to the side, messing up your foundation. You heard the members yell from the other room, as you had only a certain amount of touches. He decided to fix it, by using his thumb, as technically that wouldn’t be counted as a touch, and he could adjust it as much as he wanted. He held your chin firmly, and licked his thumb, wiping the excess lipstick off the side of your mouth, you could feel his spit, and you turned bright red. You heard a bunch of loud hollers and ‘OHHH’s from the other room, presumably from the other members. San just giggled and continued fixing it. After a while, he was done, and the rest of them came in to see the final look. You however, couldn’t stop thinking about what San did, and your hand unintentionally flew up to your face to the place San wiped your lipstick. The other members noticed and teased you for getting so flustered, while San just rolled his eyes. It was safe to say that you’d remember this experience for the rest of your life.

Mingi:

You were going to see Ateez, and had planned your outfit for months. To your surprise, you were able to get a limited ticket to one of their fan meets. You were excited and wanted everything to go perfectly. Except Of course, Something had to go wrong. They recently had a comeback and had a title track similar to ‘wave’, with the concept being similar to ‘One to All’, a bright summer concept. You decided to dress up similarly with a bright orange outfit and matching coral lipstick. You actually were one of the first people to get the tickets and so you arrived early, when not too many people were there. It was just you and maybe another 30-40 people. Finally it was your turn. Mingi was actually the second person in line and once you reached him your eyes lit up. Your bias was sitting right in front of you and you were starting to feel the emotions. Mingi held your hands and happily swayed them from side to side to match one of the songs playing. You just giggled. You were just talking calmly until one of the staff interrupted you. She informed you that you had just another 3-4 minutes left with Mingi. This was one of the advantages of being first, you got more time, but still 3-4 minutes would go by so fast and you were disappointed. You pouted, your top lip making contact with your nose. Mingi noticed and licked his thumb. He grabbed your face with his other hand and just openly wiped the bottom of your nose with his thumb. Your eyes widened and a blush crept on your face. Mingi didn’t see anything wrong in it and was unfazed, you on the other hand, were burning from embarrassment. You feared that something was on your face so you croaked out softly....

“What’s wrong? Is there something on my face?” You whispered feeling embarrassed.

“No, no, no don’t worry, its just when you scrunched your face like this... Your lipstick got on your nose, it’s fine now though” He said, while scrunching his nose, showing you what you did. You just nodded trying to calm yourself down. How was he so unfazed by that? He just grabbed your face and wiped your face. After your time was up and you had to move on to the next member, the only thing on your mind though, was Mingi.

Wooyoung:

Ateez was doing a challenge in which they had to serve drinks at a cafe. They weren’t too popular at the moment, so they didn’t need to worry about security as they knew many people wouldn’t recognise them. Additionally, atinys were one of the most respectful fandoms in general, so they didn’t have to worry too much about that either. You were going to your usual cafe, only to realise that it was packed directors, camera men, etc. You thought that there was some movie shooting going on inside, so you decided to take a seat outside and wait a bit before placing your order. For a few minutes you were scrolling through your phone until you heard a voice approach you.

“Hello, miss! What can I get you today?” You furrowed your eyebrows, as the cafe didn’t have any waiters and was self service so you looked up, only to be greeted by your biggest celebrity crush. You gasped audibly, and your eyes widened. You moved a little farther from him, not wanting to invade his personal space. The second you gasped however, the biggest smile erupted on his face as he realised you were a fan. He then began to speak casually to you.

“Hi, beautiful, what’s your name?” He said flirtatiously, you knew it was apart of his idol tendencies to please his fans and everything, but you couldn’t help your heart fluttering. You bowed deeply, and he ushered you to pull down your mask so he could see your face. You were a bit insecure, so you slowly pulled down your mask. As soon as you did however, Wooyoung stepped in front of the cameras blocking you from them. You raised an eyebrow, but he just held a hand in front of your mouth, covering it, signing that your mask had smudged your lipstick. You nodded and thanked him turning away from him and fixing it quickly. You turned back around and he smiled moving away from the camera so you were in view too.

“I’m Y/n and I’ll have my regular please” He raised his eyebrows and you corrected yourself.

“S-Sorry, I mean I’ll have a caramel macchiato” You said embarrassed he just chuckled and went back inside. The cameras followed him and you got a minute to chill.

Reality was finally setting in, you just met THE Jung Wooyoung.

Jongho:

Ateez was on the last leg of their world tour and were flying to your country. In fact, you were actually with your friend in Paris at the time, and had just watched their concert in Paris too. You didn’t know they were coming to your country, as it seemed that the last tour stop was surprise. If you would have known they were coming to your country, you would have never flown all the way to Paris. Either way, anything for Ateez. You were on your flight back to your country and got you and your friend business seats. The problem was that you had separate seats, on opposite sides of the plane. You had seat number 2a while she had 3d, how unlucky huh? You discussed trying to switch seats with the others when you got on the plane. You boarded the plane and a few minutes later, around 10 people walked into the plane and took their seats, with two of them attending to the other 8. One of them sat right next to you and you noticed all of them had hats and masks on. You noticed the opportunity as another one of them was sitting next to your friend, maybe they’d want to sit together and agree to switching seat, so you slowly asked.

“Excuse me, is it possible to switch seats by any chance? My friend is right behind us, on the other side, and I noticed one of your friends is there too, do you mind switching with my friend?” You said softly. He looked at you and you noticed those familiar eyes. It was fucking Jongho from Ateez. Your eyes widened but you said nothing, not wanting him to feel uncomfortable. He removed his mask and you saw his face clearly, trying your best not to break character, and remaining nonchalant. He just nodded and looked at your friend. You smiled widely and thanked him sincerely, waving to your friend with a big smile. He looked back at you and smiled and your heart almost exploded. You instantly stopped and blushed bright red. He just took his bag and walked to the other seat. Before leaving though, he looked back at you and motioned at his mouth, your hands flew to your lips and you looked at them noticing your bright red lipstick, you quickly bowed and thanked him, rushing back to your seat to fix your lipstick.

After the flight was over though, he did something surprising, as everyone was leaving the flight, he made sure to stand right behind you and he quickly slipped a piece of paper into your pocket. You acted as if you didn’t notice, but your heart was beating out of your chest. As soon as you entered the airport, you checked your pocket, while your friend was silently fan-girling. You opened the piece or paper only to realised he had slipped his autograph into your pocket. He must have realised you were a fan. Real smooth Jongho, real smooth.

#ateezmaknae #ateezff #ateez angst #ateez fluff #san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho #ateez #ateez fanfic

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randomfandomimagine · 4 years

Text

Secret Identity (Peter Parker x Reader)

Characters: Peter Parker, Miles Morales, May Parker

Fandom: PS4 Spiderman

Tags: Secrets, protectiveness

Warnings: Briefs descriptions of injury and blood

Word Count: 2,7k words

Summary: Y/N realizes Peter is behaving strangely, though nothing seeems to make sense until Spiderman appears on Y/N’s house, needing their help.

A/N: I don’t know if anyone actually reads these or not, but anyway. I love some parts of this but I feel kind of insecure about this as a whole, so it would be lovely to get some feedback about it, pretty please? And do reblog if you enjoy it!!!

Peter Parker x Gender Neutral Reader

Peter Parker, always so busy… but you didn’t mind dropping by to meet him. You missed your friend, and since it was hard to catch him sometimes, you didn’t mind going out of your way. Besides, maybe you could give a hand while you were there.

When you arrived at F.E.A.S.T., you went directly to the kitchen where Peter was usually helping his aunt. But there was only May there, so you went to say hello.

“Hi, May” You greeted her as you approached her on the table. “Do you need some help?”

“Oh, no, thank you” She smiled at you, dedicating you a quick glance before returning to her vegetables. “If you’re looking for Peter, he’s right there”

Following the direction she absently pointed at, you saw him in the main area talking to Miles. Seeing Peter made your day, as usual. You smiled at the sight of him, at the way he kindly patted his friend’s shoulder with a beautiful bright smile.

“Thanks, I’ll go talk to him” You told his aunt, and went to meet with him.

It had only been a couple of days since you last saw him, but you were so excited that the smile stayed on your lips as you went to stand next to them. He glanced your general direction as you approached, and he had to do a double take when he recognized you.

“Hey, Y/N!” Peter smiled, like every time you met. “Wasn’t expecting to see you today”

Miles smiled at you to reciprocate the gesture, even if he did in an amused way.

“Hello” He glanced from you and back to Peter. “I have to, uh… go help May”

“Thanks” You chuckled, knowing he was just trying to let you two chat.

“What are you doing here?” Peter seemed surprised, yet his smile lingered like yours did.

“I was hoping to go for lunch with someone” You nudged him a little. “You know, talk for a bit? Do that thing that friends do… uh, hang out? It’s that what it’s called?”

“Okay…” He rolled his eyes a little, still amused by your playful tone. “I know I haven’t answered your calls, but-“

“You’re busy, I know” You punched him in the shoulder, still in a joking manner. “I just miss you, Parker”

Peter winced in an exaggerated way, teasing you as always, and held that spot. This time it was you who rolled your eyes.

“Okay” Peter laughed a little. “Just let me say bye to May and then we can leave”

You had just exited the building when Peter suddenly gasped. You frowned, worried about his mild outburst. It was then when you heard a voice behind you, causing you to turn around in alarm despite his friendly tone.

“Peter!” It was a man dressed in a black and white suit, bearing a kind expression.

“Mr. Li…” Pete replied, although in a much drier tone. You opened your mouth to ask what the matter was. However, Peter suddenly put an arm around you and held you by the waist.

“Thanks for dropping by today” Mr. Li, whose name you remembered hearing from both Pete and May as being the man behind F.E.A.S.T., lingered on his friendly tone. He seemed unfazed by Peter’s uncharacteristic coldness.

“Sure” He merely replied, never taking his eyes off him.

“Who’s this?” The man looked at you, which caused Peter to press you against his side while still staring at Mr. Li.

“That’s Y/N”

“I see. Nice to meet you, Y/N”

“You t-“ You were about to hold out your hand to shake his, but Peter squeezed your hip with surprising force, which caused you to lower your arm.

“Well, I have to go” Mr. Li still smiled, apparently oblivious to his whole demeanor. “Take care of your… friend”

“I will” Peter assured, following the man with his gaze as he walked away. His jaw was suddenly clenched so much that the bone stood out under the skin. Your heart began racing, knowing something was definitely wrong.

“Pete?” You piped up, barely daring to raise your voice.

“Yeah” He absently replied, still looking at the point Mr. Li disappeared to.

“You’re hurting me, Peter” You tapped his hand, still tightly holding on to your waist.

“Oh!” He immediately released you, seemingly returning to his usual warm self. “Sorry”

“What’s wrong?” When your eyes met, you discovered something new in his, a certain seriousness that you hadn’t experienced before.

“He’s dangerous” He muttered, glancing to that far off spot again.

“But he runs things at F.E.A.S.T., and he looks so nice!”

“He’s not, believe me”

“How do you know?”

“I just do”

There was a tense pause in which Peter took a deep breath. Then turned to you again and gently put his hands on your shoulders. Even that soft gesture seemed to hold an incredible sense of urgency.

“I gotta run, sorry about lunch” He tried to show you a smile, but failed miserably. “Go home, I’ll see you soon”

“What’s going on? You’re scaring me, Pete”

“It’s nothing, just go home”

“No, I won’t leave until you tell me-“

“It’ll be alright” His haste seemed to subside for just a second in which he tenderly stared into your eyes. “Just… trust me, okay?”

“Okay” You nodded your head, much to his relief. He visibly sighed and relaxed his shoulders. “Call me later, will you?”

“Will do” As a goodbye, Peter gave you a friendly kiss in the cheek before running off.

You stood there, watching him leave in a rush. There was something strange happening and you weren’t sure you truly wanted to know what it was. You were too scared to know.

Heeding Peter’s odd warning, you went home and stayed there. It had started to drizzle, and the pitter-patter of the rain that fell against the glass of your window filled the bedroom. Sitting in your desk, you tried to distract yourself from what had happened a few hours ago. Despite your efforts, you obsessively glanced at your phone waiting for Peter’s call.

Just when you were looking at the screen for the tenth time, a noise startled you.

“Ah!” You exclaimed, turning to the window, where the sound came from.

“Hey…” A muffled voice said as the person knocked on the glass again.

You gawked at the image. Spiderman was standing outside your window. He was there, and you had to rub your eyes to make sure you weren’t seeing things. What was Spiderman doing at your house?

“S-Spiderman!” You quickly ran to the window and opened it. “Are you lost?”

He stumbled inside as soon as you did, shielding himself from the bad weather. Blending in with the raindrops, a crimson liquid began staining your floor. That immediately gathered your attention to Spiderman’s side, where his suit was torn and a fresh deep-looking wound was bleeding profusely.

You pointed a finger to his abdomen, opening your mouth to ask him about it. What had happened? Would he be okay? Did he need you to call someone? What…?

“No…” He breathed out, struggling to keep his balance. “I made it”

And then he collapsed, limply falling to the floor. Your hands flew to your mouth in startle, stifling a scream, and you threw yourself to help him. As you knelt down beside him, you froze for a moment, not knowing what to do. Then, of a sudden, you wondered again why none other than Spiderman was in your house. In all of New York, he could have gone anywhere. Why go to you? Was it a coincidence? What if… what if it was deliberate? What if he knew exactly where he was going, who he was asking help from?

“No way…” You whispered, moved by a hunch. On an instinct, your hand moved up. “It can’t be…”

As your fingers shakily gripped the end of his mask, your mind was boiling with thoughts. All of them seemed to point to the same thing, and to the same person. It was like all the pieces of a puzzle you didn’t know you were trying to solve were finally coming together. You pulled at the mask to reveal his face and…

“Peter…” You gasped, watching your passed-out friend. “It’s you…”

His face was pale, sweaty and filled with bruises, but it was him. His messy brown hair stuck to his forehead and temples because of the sweat, dirt and dry blood that gathered on his skin from all of those small cuts. But it was him.

Now that you knew about his secret identity, everything made sense. Why he was always late, why he seemed so busy and why he acted strange. Especially, his caution about Mr. Li. It wasn’t Peter Parker being suspicious of him. It was Spiderman having certainties about whatever crimes that man had committed.

“I have to do something” You nervously said to yourself, panicking as you tried to put some order into your thoughts. It had been alarming enough to see an injured Spiderman in your bedroom, but the situation only worsened when you realized him and Peter were the same person. Pete was hurt, and he might be dying. Your friend needed you.

Not wanting to stay on the floor, you sneaked your arms under his armpits and tried to hoist him up. You grunted, finding him a lot heavier than you thought. Then you moved him, dragging him to the bed and hoping you were strong enough to lift him up just enough to lay him down. Once there, you would do your best to treat his wound.

Blood, there was blood in your hands. It stained your fingers and your palms. Your heart raced at top speed. It was the only thing you could hear, even over the loud sound of your frantic breathing. It was trying to tell you something was missing. Something you should be focusing your entire attention on. A blur or red and blue passed your field of vision, making you feel like you couldn’t breathe. Spiderman was swinging around the city, leaving a trail of crimson while he did. He was hurt, why would no one help him?! Then you realized… it wasn’t only Spiderman, but Peter. He was bleeding. Peter was bleeding, he was dying, he…

You sighed when a warm hand stroke your head. Finding comfort in that gentle touch, you urgently squeezed what you were holding. As that hand shook you slightly, your mind began understanding you had been dreaming and it started pulling you into reality once more.

“Y/N” A voice gingerly called you, one that you knew well.

“Huh?” You mumbled, still dazed and sleep. Nonetheless, you raised your head and looked at him. “What…?”

Slowly, you came to your senses. That heartbeat in your dream wasn’t your own, it was Peter’s. It was what you heard, as your head had been resting over his chest, your ear pressed over his heart. It was a relief that it was still beating. You were also relieved, as you glanced down at his abdomen, to see that all that blood was part of the past.

“Peter?” You smiled, suddenly reinvigorated at the sight of him. “Pete, you’re okay!”

“Hi” He weakly smiled at you, although his meek expression drastically shifted. “Wait”

Peter touched his face, probably noticing he wasn’t wearing his mask. That reminded you of everything that happened. How Spiderman, or should you say Peter, had stumbled into your bedroom, hurt and bloody. You had done a terrible job at healing his wound, as you confirmed when you looked at the crappy bandage on his torso again. Still, it had done the work and it had stopped the bleeding.

“It’s okay” You comforted him, squeezing what you realized was his hand. “Sorry that I took your mask off”

“I should have known you would” He chuckled, even if that sound was a shadow of its former self. “You would have found out sooner or later anyway”

“How are you feeling?” You rubbed your eyes, feeling silly for having fallen asleep. All your bones and muscles ached from the posture, as you were still sitting at the chair by the bed, leaning down on him.

“I’m good” He grunted, doing an enormous effort to sit up. “I gotta-“

“Don’t you dare” You scolded him, not losing a second in pushing him back down. “You almost died, you’re not going anywhere”

Peter watched you, frowning and bearing an absolute sadness in his eyes. He took your hand again, the gesture holding great urgency and emotion, and sighed.

“Sorry for worrying you, I didn’t know where else to go”

“I’m just glad you made it in time”

“Yeah, it was fun swinging when the buildings were moving. It was a challenge”

You rolled your eyes, even if you were used to his bad jokes to break the tension.

“That’s not funny, Parker”

“Parker, huh? That’s not good”

“I’m serious… Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to, but…”

You stared at him, and the longer you looked the more you read his thoughts and the more you realized… he was scared. Telling you his secret was complicated and risky, and he had been too scared about many things. About how you would react, about the danger it could potentially put you in, about how many things could go wrong because of it. About the many consequences it would have for you.

“I understand” You spoke up, and even if Pete had been averting his gaze, he peered up at you now. He smiled a little and nodded his head, realizing what your words meant.

You weren’t only forgiving him for keeping it a secret. In a way, you were also thanking him for caring so much about you. At the same time, you were asking him not to keep you in the dark like that anymore. And despite the few words spoken, he understood all of this too.

A noise outside suddenly startled you two, making you hold on tighter to the other’s hand. Your eyes moved to the window, to the blurry police alarms blasting in the distance. Then you glanced at each other. Your heart skipped a beat with the dawning realization that you knew what he would say next.

“I have to go” He sat up this time, letting go of your hand.

“But you’re hurt…”

“I heal fast”

“Peter…”

“I’ll be okay, don’t worry”

Peter stood up from the bed, moving slowly and stopping for a moment when a dizzy spell apparently hit him. You nibbled on your bottom lip, hating to see him in this state. He had his eyes closed, but as soon as he recovered he opened them to look at you. A small smile formed on his lips, which somehow managed to ease your anxiety.

“Where’s my mask?” He asked, and you quickly picked it up from the bedside table and gave it to him. Your fingers brushed when he took it from you, and the tingling feeling that grazing touch gave you lingered as he moved away and put it on.

“I’ll call you when it’s over” You wanted to smile in appreciation, moved that he knew how worried you were and wanted to let you know he was okay when it was done.

You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but no words came out. In any case, Peter was heading for the window. He opened it, letting the cold and the rain in. He was about and leave, to swing away from you and straight into danger again.

“Pete!” As soon as he turned to face you, you threw yourself to hug him and kissed him in the cheek before nuzzling his shoulder. “Come back in one piece, will you?”

“I promise” He held you close against him, embracing that last moment of happiness and comfort. Like the calm before the storm.

When you broke away, you stared at each other for a long second. Then he took a deep breath, nodded and left. As you saw him swinging form building to building, you were conflicted. You were incredibly proud of him for being Spiderman, but you were just as worried. And scared. Still, a smile made its way to your lips. You couldn’t explain why, but you felt better when you closed the window. Because Peter’s presence lingered for a little longer even after he left, like a promise that he would be okay. Maybe it was that Parker magic. Because that wasn’t just Spiderman, it was Peter Parker.

Tag list: @call-me-harley-quinn / @wonderlandfandomkingdom / @trunks-kiwi / @andreasworlsboring101 / @kylosdankdealer / @timelords13 / @anxiouslyreckless // If you want to be added or taken off the tag list for these fandoms or characters, send me an ask!! // Feedback and reblogs are appreciated!

#peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #marvels spiderman #spiderman ps4 #ps4 spiderman #ps4 spiderman imagine #spiderman ps4 imagine #marvel spiderman imagine #peter parker #ficlet #rfi writings #peter parker ficlet #ps4 spiderman ficlet #reader insert #not requested

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sserpente · 5 years

Photo

A/N: I was writing this while my cat kept attacking me because she wanted to play. I don’t know if it made any impact on the story but I guess we’ll see. 😅

Words: 2154 Warnings: fluff (+ there are NO spoilers for TROS in this Imagine!)

Your lungs were burning, accompanied by a stinging pain in your chest. A broken rib, probably, maybe even two. You had been reckless. No, you had been distracted. Distracted by the man you loved more than yourself.

You were so close to him now—and while your heart knew exactly what it wanted, your mind kept sending shockwaves of adrenaline through your entire body.

Danger. Threat. Flight.

You hadn’t seen Ben’s face since he departed to train as a Jedi with his uncle Luke—and Leia had forbidden you joined the Resistance on any risky missions anywhere near the First Order. You were not Force sensitive, never had been. But they took you in when you had had nothing left and you had given back to them your services and your loyalty—your support to fight for a better world.

Your personal political views remained indifferent as long as you got to live, preferably not in poverty. But the Resistance, back then operating under a different name, of course, had given you something else. Someone else. They had given you Ben—right until Luke’s godforsaken Jedi camp had ripped him from your grasp cruelly, had him drift away from you until he was out of reach both physically and mentally.

He had a new name now, new motivations—and he had done terrible things which shocked you to the very bottom of your heart and yet… yet you could never stop loving him. Perhaps this was the reason you were here now, on the Finalizer, bruised, beaten and defeated.

Your weapons had long been taken from you. You were helpless. And Kylo Ren was your only hope.

“Bring her to my quarters for an interrogation, and keep her restrained. Her strength is not to be underestimated.” The voice you heard behind you was somewhat… distorted, no, modulated—most likely, it belonged to one of the Knights of Ren… did Kylo wear one too, a mask? How would you recognise him if he did? What if this voice, what if it was him… You swallowed thickly. Focus. Interrogation. If you fought back too much, they would pry your mind open like a nut, pushing you straight into the depths of madness.

You didn’t know anything. Nothing about Leia’s plans and not even if they still resided in the same location. You were on your own now. You had left after the destruction of the Jedi camp, when Ben had become someone you did not recognise—yet.

My quarters… you repeated the words in your mind, pure terror spreading in your veins like a nasty disease. Could it be?

The Stormtroopers followed the order immediately. Grabbing you by your upper arms and practically lifting your feet off the ground, they dragged you through the cold and empty hallways almost effortlessly.

You did not resist—you would save your strength for later—for when you truly needed it to fight all the torture they were about to inflict on you.

Handcuffed to almost utter helplessness, you were shoved into some dark living space, discarded like an old piece of furniture; the metal doors sliding shut behind you and darkness swallowing you whole before you could even turn. Idiots.

Standing there in the corner in complete blackness, with your heart in your mouth and the blood singing in your ears, you waited. You knew enough about strangling people. Your restraints posed the perfect tool for that.

But it stayed silent for a while. No footsteps, no voices, nothing. Then, finally, just when you had almost given up and begun to think your captor might have forgotten about you, the metal doors flew open once again.

The small beam of light falling onto the ground of the dark living quarters before the only exit route was cut off again were enough for you to make out a tall silhouette—and attack it.

With a belligerent scream, you stormed forward, aiming for the figure’s neck—but found your limbs paralysed by an invisible Force only the fraction of a second after, before the metal around your wrists could even touch your enemy.

The man in front of you chuckled darkly—a terrifying sound through the voice modulator inside the mask he was wearing. You froze, regardless of what the Force was doing to your body, eyes widening as a suspicion rose within you. This chuckle… it sounded familiar.

As cool as you please, he reached up, gloved hands swiftly fiddling with the clasps of his mask, revealing…

“Ben.” You choked out when your eyes met. You had found him. He was alive. He was safe. He was well. “Ben…” You repeated, voice breaking pathetically. Instantly, the Force released your limbs but you did not move an inch.

“Ben is dead,” he spat.

“What? I see him. I see him right in front of me!” Kylo turned up his mouth, a touch of anger radiating off of him. Once more, you felt the Force on your body, this time wrapping around your neck tightly. He didn’t even blink as he lifted you off your feet and pulled you towards him without lifting a finger, your body—tiny and downright petite compared to his—colliding with his chest and knocking all air from your lungs.

You howled in pain, your stricken ribs complaining upon the harsh impact. Kylo hesitated, a frown decorating his face for no longer than a split second before he seemed to recollect himself.

“Where is the Resistance?” He asked with a tilt of his head, ignoring your prior response coldly. At this point, you were shaking. You longed to jump into his arms and hold him tightly, but feared his reaction. Would he push you away? Laugh at you? Kill you? No, you figured. Ben would never hurt you.

“I… I don’t know. I left them after what happened at… the… the Jedi camp. I’ve been looking for you ever since.” Kylo Ren’s eyebrows rose slightly.

“And now that you’ve found me, what will you do?” He responded coolly, a hint of mockery swinging in his voice. You fell silent. Ben knew you well, he always had. Truth was, you had not had a plan. All you had wanted was to find the man you loved.

“I presume the Resistance still cares about your whereabouts,” he continued then, seemingly unfazed. “What will they do once they learn the First Order has you in its grip?” Kylo Ren stretched out his hand, gloved fingers kneading the thin air as you felt the Force pulling your mind apart like thin threads being torn from a silken fabric—looking for any kind of information about the Resistance which might be useful to him.

You failed to resist, knowing it would make the inevitable pain a lot more bearable. You had not lied. And you had never kept secrets from Ben.

“You really have no idea.” He concluded almost softly, absentmindedly pulling away again. He gnashed his teeth, staring you intently in the eye for a few agonising seconds. You slowly nodded.

Kylo Ren already knew what you did not dare to speak out loud—that you had come to see him regardless of the consequences which might result in the downfall of the Resistance. For just a brief moment, his composed and repellent façade crumbled. Glimpses of cracks proving to you he was unwilling to yield to his true emotions. He clenched his gloved fists, his right eye twitching once.

Without another word, he hurried to put his mask back on, then he stormed outside, illuminating the dark quarters with the artificial light from the vast hallways for a third time.

“Send a message to the Resistance,” you heard his modulated voice say to the Stormtroopers standing guard outside, “Tell General Organa we have one of her… fugitives on board. (Y/N) (Y/L/N)’s survival in return for the exact coordinates of their remaining ships.”

Your chest was heaving, tears streaming down your face. Grief and relief mixed in your heart, poisoning you with a deadly potion singeing you from the inside out—it was a pain much worse than the physical injuries of your body the two medical droids were treating. Ben must have sent them to his quarters after realising you were hurt. Nothing was broken, yet the contusions felt equally antagonising. The droids had stripped you and more or less forced you down on the black and uncomfortable sofa, with only your sports bra remaining to take care of the dark bruises.

They utterly ignored your heart-breaking sobs rippling through Kylo Ren’s empty quarters. At least, the lights had been switched on by now, allowing you a few curious glances around.

The decoration was sparse. There was a chest of drawers, a wardrobe, a double bed with pitch black bed sheets, a dark and tiled hallway leading to a separate refreshing area and a mysterious metal door—you did not need to try for the knob to know it would be locked.

Ben’s signature was all over the room—it felt like his aura lingered despite his absence, reminding you with every passing second of the man you had lost. He could have taken you to General Hux, could have the Stormtroopers take care of accommodating you—and he could have you killed without so much as a simple blink. He had not. You were here. Right here in his quarters where you were safe. Safe from all the threats on board the Finalizer, safe from the proponents of the First Order. Safe from anyone except from him.

Kylo Ren returned, presumably, late at night. He found you curled up on the hard seating furniture, your almost naked back turned to him. He could sense you were still awake. Your thoughts were racing through your mind, one toppling over the next.

Your lips were still shaking—as were your limbs. His quarters were almost unusually chilly, dark and uninviting. Wearing no more than a pair of tight trousers and your sports bra did not exactly help this predicament. Holding your breath, you listened. What was he doing? You could hear the rustling of fabric, bed sheets being pulled back for the owner of the soft mattress to lie down on it and rest and lastly, the sound of a light switch. Once again, you found yourself in complete darkness.

One thing was for sure—Kylo Ren would never admit he was unsure of what to do with you. Killing you was no option. He would never forgive himself. Leaving you with Hux or the Stormtroopers? You were his.

Gnashing his teeth, he ripped his eyes back open all the while listening to your clattering teeth. Were you really his? You loved him, he knew this, he could sense it—always could have. And you were here. Here in his quarters. You could have been killed for just attempting to come here and even that had not stopped you from finding him. For Heaven’s sake—he was the Supreme Leader. If he wished to keep you with him, it would be his decision alone.

“B-Ben.” He suddenly heard you mumble.

Silence. Indignantly, he squeezed his eyes shut. Would sleep come to him tonight? He would need his energy. If his mother still cared about you as much as she had before he left her, tomorrow might result in yet another draining battle.

“Ben.” You said again, louder and more vehemently this time.

Again, he did not respond. You swallowed thickly, biting your lower lip so hard you could taste blood.

“Fine,” you spat. “Kylo.”

As if on cue, he turned in bed, facing you in the utter darkness of his quarters. You had a feeling he could still see every inch of you, his brown eyes boring through you like sharp daggers or the hot blade of his lightsabre.

“What is it?”

“I’m freezing. Please… can you give me a blanket?”

“I don’t have any spare blankets.” His dark voice rumbled through the blackness around you. Fearing that this would be his final word, you took a deep and shaky breath. But then, suddenly, the bed sheets rustled again. “Come.”

What? Did he mean… his bed?

Still trembling, you stood from the uncomfortable sofa, wondering what he would do if you approached him. But Kylo said nothing. Not when you lied down in his warm bed. Not when he covered you with his blanket. Not when he wrapped an arm around your middle and pulled your cold body against his warm chest, his heavy breathing brushing hot air against the back of your neck.

“Kylo…” You whispered. He held you even closer in response—there was no need for him to see you to notice how your eyes had filled with salty tears again.

What was he doing? Was he Kylo Ren or was he Ben Solo? But perhaps it did not matter. He was, after all, the man you loved.

Check out my blog to find more Imagines and take a glimpse at my first (to be) published novel! Also, if you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate so much if you supported me on Kofi! ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥

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artsy0wl · 3 years

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My Son (A New Teen Titans Fic)

So I have a headcanon or two for Joey “Jericho” Wilson. One being that, due to his childhood trauma, he as PTSD. I actually made a series elsewhere where I discuss how each Titan would react to it.

I also had a little fic series planned out about Slade visiting Joey during the night since he couldn’t during the day (due to work and Adeline). It was a 5 + 1, but as it went on, it felt a hit repetative and I really wamted to do the last one where Slade gets caught. By Nightwing of all people. And they decide to have a talk.

It’s a fun little project that I thought ya’ll might enjoy.

It had been two months since Joey had joined the Titans, and two months that Slade had to carefully sneak in to see his son. He had been successful and was thankful that he had not been caught. But that didn't mean he wasn't cautious.

This night was no different. As he sat on the edge of the bed, Slade noted Joey's good health. He was healthy, his weight appeared normal, and he showed no signs of physical damage. Slade was glad that the Titans were treating him well. It was something that he was sure that Adeline made them promise, with Nightwing probably the first to experience her protective rage first hand.

As his father, all that Slade could ask for was his son being in good hands. However, he couldn't entirely bring himself to fully agree with the arrangement. If it were up to him, Joey would be with either parent, preferably both, or on his own. Joey didn't need to get caught up in all this fighting, even if he had a love for helping others.

Slade's train of thought was disrupted as Joey unconsciously flinched. His body twitched in distress as he unconsciously found himself trapped in a nightmare. One hand gently grabbed Joey's arm while the other cupped the side of his face.

"It's okay Joey." Slade comfortably whispered. "Dad's here. Everything's okay now."

Joey seemed to listen to his father as he unconsciously melted in his father's grip. When his breathing regulated and his flinching stopped, Slade adjusted Joey's blanket. Slade let out a deflated sigh.

"How long have you been there?" Slade sighed, knowing that he was being watched.

"Long enough." Nightwing admitted.

"And how long have you known?"

"Two weeks."

Slade rose from his seat to face the young vigilante. He looked at Nightwing, not with anger or resentment, but exhaustion. He didn't want to be caught after such a long record of escaping unseen. Least of all by Nightwing.

"What are you going to do?" Slade inquired. "Arrest me for visiting my son?"

Nightwing sighed, shaking his head. He approached the mercenary, cautiously, but unfazed by his presence. He gave the mercenary an unusually tired grin.

"Would you like a cup of coffee?" Nightwing offered.

Slade shockingly flinched at the offer, eyeing Nightwing curiously. While spontaneous moments of kindness was nothing new for Nightwing, the fact that he was offering one of his sworn advisories coffee was. Nightwing's expression softened slightly, knowing that he had stumped Slade.

"I've been up working on tying a few loose ends for cases back in Gotham and am not going to bed any time soon." Nightwing shrugged his shoulders. "The next person up will be Raven and that's not for another two hours. And Joey not too long after that." He then glanced at Joey. "He'll still be here when we're done if you want to see him."

Slade bounced between Nightwing and his son. Joey was in a deep sleep, which was a good sign. And if he was going to be like that for a few hours, it wouldn't hurt if he stepped away for a moment.

"Why not?" Slade accepted.

A steaming mug of coffee was generously placed in front of Slade, as Dick sat on the other side of the table. Slade took it, gingerly picking it up before taking a sip. Dick's domino mask sat by him, letting Slade know that he wasn't afraid that he saw his true identity. Not that he hadn't already. They sat in silence for a few moments as they scanned each other.

"So, how did you find out?" Slade asked, setting the cup down.

"I guess it started when we initially got Joey situated in the Tower." Dick recalled, taking a bit of coffee before setting it down. "Adeline mentioned that he suffered from chronic nightmares. Mostly resulting from the trauma of losing his voice, your messy divorce, and Grant's death." Dick's coffee cup slightly shifted between his hands. "She also warned us that the events with Terra might add onto that trauma. Her recommendation, if we caught him in the midst of a nightmare, wake him up, talk him through it if need be, and get him back to bed."

"That does sound like her." Slade confirmed.

Slade could picture Adeline given the Titans a list of odd requests and requirements as well as warnings. It was probably for the best considering Joey's traumatic history. However, that didn't entirely answer his question and opened the door for a new one.

"So I'm guessing all of you do this?" Slade assumed.

"Me and Raven mostly." Dick stated. "Beast Boy was a bit untrusting of him after Terra's death." There was a brief pause as they both recalled the initial fallout. "And while he's gotten over it, he's still working on building a good relationship with Joey." Dick moved on to the next member. "Cyborg would, given that he knows a thing or two about trauma, but because of the nature of theirs being a bit different, he's not sure if he's the best candidate. Though he does well for the most part." That only left one other member. "Starfire gets it as well, and while she gets the difference between coping on Tamaran and Earth, he is a little intimidated by her more assertive nature."

Dick look at his cup thinking about their attempt to help. Or at the very least how they were handling it. It wasn't that they weren't trying, it was how familiar they were with Joey's or how they thought they could handle it.

"To actually answer your question though, we started noticing changes after the first month." Dick circled back around. "In that first month, he would wake up petrified almost every other night. He only got three hours of sleep a night in the first week alone." Dick's face twitched at the thought. "We thought part of it was because of the adjustment on top of the nightmares. Then about a month ago, his panic attacks got less frequent. He wasn't waking up as much and was opening up a bit more. Raven and I thought he was getting better. That maybe he was getting used to being here, and the panic attacks were clearing up naturally. We also thought that maybe with him being away from Adaline helped, thinking that her constant presence might have been part of the problem. Two weeks ago, Raven decided to take a step back. She's still open to helping, both as an empath and just wanting to be someone he could confide in. But at that point, she didn't feel the need to constantly gauge his emotions every night."

Dick sipped his coffee, recalling the conversation. He understood her decision. Without any incidents in two weeks, there might not have been a need to have him constantly monitored. Plus, she was starting to look a bit under the weather herself, which wouldn't benefit Joey's psyche, or what was equally as important, her health. As far as Dick was concerned, Raven retiring was probably good for both of their sakes.

"Which left me on and off." Dick continued. "I was up two weeks ago, helping tie up a few loose ends for a case involving Two Face that Robin and I worked on. I was taking a break, so I thought I would check on Joey. I wasn't overly concerned, but I figured why not? I was up so checking on him wasn't going to do any harm. When I turned the camera on, I was startled to find you in the room."

Slade twitched slightly. He vaguely recalled that night. It was ten days after Slade and Beast Boy had a sit down and cleared the air after Terra's death and another two after Slade and Wintergreen returned from a hunting trip that turned into Slade's first real contract after completing Grant's. Slade remembered feeling a paternal needing to see his son. To check on the kid to make sure everything was alright.

"You were sitting on the edge of the bed, much like you were tonight," Dick stated, "and you must have just calmed him down from a nightmare as well given how tightly he was unconsciously holding onto your sleeve."

There was a prolonged sense of silence as they took the time to digest Dick's story. It was detailed, which was a plus. However, it also left Slade with a lingering sense of tension and a need to explain himself.

"I just want to see my son." Slade admitted. "I know my job hasn't made it easy. Even less so, now that Adaline and I have divorced. My family is the one thing that is still important to me. I just wish I had more time with them. That I had done things differently." Slade eyed his coffee. "I miss my kids and I've screwed them both up in equally horrible ways. But for Joey's sake, I want to be in his life. And for my sanity, I have to be. Even if it’s in secret.”

"I understand." Dick replied, to a slightly curious glare. "I mean, as a parent, I don't understand where you're coming from, but as a child who had a parent being gone for periods of time, I understand." Another, slightly confused, glare dug into him. "Just because I grew up in a circus, and close to my parents, doesn't mean my father never spent periods of time away from us. I know two times where that happened. The first when my mother was on maternity leave with me and the second when I got a bad case of pneumonia that landed me in the hospital for a week. In both cases, Haly needed at least one Grayson to keep the show going. So my father had to spend long periods of time perfecting a one man routine." Dick took a sip of coffee. "I might not remember his time away when I was a baby, but I vaguely recall calling out for my father during the worst parts of my pneumonia, only for him not to show. I remember feeling pain from the pneumonia on top of feeling heartbroken when he wasn't there."

It might not have been what Slade wanted to hear, but it was something he didn't mind hearing either. Hearing how the other side fells, helped put things into perspective. Even if that perspective was a little different as far as history.

"You've raised a great kid." Dick complimented, catching Slade off guard a bit. "It's true. I've never met someone as kind hearted and wonderfully talented as he is. He's a wonderful human being. So if there's any positive takeaway from everything your family's been through, it's that."

Slade wasn't sure if he should take the compliment. With everything he's done to his kid, he wasn't sure if he could take credit for it, outside of half his DNA and its side effects. But at the same time, he appreciated Dick at least trying to be somewhat positive about it.

"He's the only good thing we have," Slade admitted, "not that we deserve him. But thank you anyways." Slade gave Dick an intense glare. "And thank you for what you've been doing for him. He needs people like you in his life."

"Of course. I want him to be comfortable."

After another half hour of conversing, Slade finally decided to call it a night. But not without saying goodbye to his son. He and Dick quietly waltz down the hall to Joey's room. Right as Slade was about to open the door when the door slid open on its own. On the other side, a slightly dazed Joey stood in front of them. He jumped in surprise when his sight processed what was in front of him. Which prompted Slade to glare at Dick suspiciously.

"Don't worry bud," Dick comforted, addressing Joey first, "I'm not going to arrest him. He just wanted to see you, but you were asleep. What are you doing up so early?"

"Smelled coffee." Joey signed. "Have to pee."

That was enough to answer Slade's suspicions. He couldn't blame Dick for his son's bladder and he was just as guilty as Dick was for the coffee smell. Turning his full attention back to Joey, Slade tried to think of what to say. Not expecting to get caught, he felt at a loss for words.

Joey tightly latched onto Slade, hugging him to fill his father's lack of response. His face dug into Slade's shoulder and let tears dampen Slade's coarse top. It was clear that Joey needed this almost as much as Slade did. More so even.

After a few moment, Joey gently tapped Slade letting him know he was done. He was released, and took care of any rogue tears.

"I missed you." Joey signed.

"Me too kid." Slade agreed with a soft smile. "I'm sorry I have been a bit neglectful."

"It's okay. I'm just glad you're here now." Joey turned his attention to Dick. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Dick answered, approaching him. "I'm just glad you guys got to see each other."

#Joey Wilson #Slade Wilson #Deathstroke #Jericho #Dick Grayson #Nightwing #New Teen Titans #Fanfic #Fanfiction #DC #DC Comics #AU #Precious Boy #Sleepy Jericho #Anxiety #Panic Attack #Nightmares

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thekrazykeke · 4 years

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See You Again [2]

Fandom(s): Tokyo Ghoul

Relationship(s): Uta & reader.

Summary: in the sound of silence, we found sanctuary. in every word unspoken, love.

Warning(s): Angst, unspoken feelings. Pre-canon events but also very ambiguous timeline-wise. Disturbing mental imagery. Canon typical gore.

This little series was never meant to have a happy ending, so no screaming at me. I’ll accept your appreciation for my love of angst in reblogs, likes, comments or tears.

Seriously though, in all honesty, I hurt myself as I wrote this.

I dunno, I might indulge that impulsive urge of mine and write a one shot where they actually get together. Most likely not though, so no one hold their breath ahahaha.

[i.]

A smart person would never have returned to the little out of the way mask shop in the 4th Ward. You’d have chalked up the experience as weird and as common sense dictated, forgotten all about it.

That is the safer route, the sane option.

So of course, you decided to be stupid. You kept coming back to the shop, although you were careful with how you planned your visits, spacing them out in between sight seeing and being a general tourist.

The added bonus of your frequent visits being that although Uta’s face didn’t really change much expression-wise, you got the feeling that he was always a little surprised to see you.

“Do you really like it here that much?”

Pulling the oni mask away from your face, you glanced at Uta who stood a good distance away from you, hand in pocket, hip cocked against the edge of the counter. “What’s that now?”

“I said, ‘do you really like it here that much?’” Uta repeated himself, red on black eyes intently trained on your face. “This is the second time this week you’ve come by without buying anything.”

“Oof.” You exaggeratedly clutched at your chest. “That hurt, Uta-san. With how frequently I come by here, one would think you’d treat me as more than a customer. We’re friends now.”

“We’re not.”

The words are stated so bluntly and again, you clutch at your chest, miming being struck by an arrow. Uta didn’t respond to your joking around and playing, just stared at you. So, you cut the crap, reaching into your back pocket with a mock pout. “How much for this mask? I think it suits me.”

“10504.50 yen.” At the sight of your suddenly wide eyes and dropped jaw, Uta’s blank expression cracked, he smiled slightly and just for a split second. “Also, the mask doesn’t suit you.”

You turned your back to him, carefully returning the oni mask to the display it’d been set up on. The next second you turned around, you nearly jumped out of your skin at how close Uta is now. “Hey now! Shit, you need a bell or something.”

“It’s not my fault you don’t pay attention.”

You can’t even pull off your comedic routine and drop your head in an ‘ashamed’ manner because you’d probably most likely hit your head against his chest, he’s standing that close. Before you could ask him to either back up and inquire what was his reason for being in your personal space, a tattooed finger reached out, lightly touching your chin, encouraging you to look up, so that’s what you did.

“...I can create a mask for you. Something that suits you.” He’s now adjusting your face, the faintest touch causing you to move this way and that.

“Aww! That’s nice of you, Uta-sa-”

“The base color would be silver, perhaps. And the eyes would sewn shut, the better to hide your grief and... the anger.” He’s musing aloud, words quiet and almost a whisper, but you heard him. Part of you think it’s deliberate, that he’s making fun of you, mocking you.

And it worked.

You reached a hand up, setting it upon his wrist. Uta blinked, staring down at your hand, then his unique gaze switched to you, and he.... for a lack of better words, it’s like he snapped out of that artist’s mode. He dropped his hand and took one step out of your personal bubble then another and another before whirling around and started walking away.

He lifted a hand in farewell, waving it about in a sort of shooing manner.

“Come back again in two to three weeks.”

That should have been the end of you and his interactions.

Regardless of how intriguing he is, he’d pressed on one of your triggers, maybe even on purpose, and you already had too short of a life to put up with the bullshit. Then again, maybe it was for that reason entirely that you decided that you were gonna keep seeing him, even after he finished the mask, to annoy him to death of course.

Until he told you upfront to go away, you wouldn’t. That’s what you decided.

And with that resolution settled in your head, you could go about your business. You enjoyed the sights, the food, and although your judgement said it’d be a bad idea, you had a couple of one night stands. The first is a lawyer that you’re like pretty sure has kids and a wife, and the other is a stressed college kid.

The experience left you unsatisfied and irritated.

Since your last encounter with Uta had been...awkward and strained, you decided to bring a peace offering. Cream puffs for yourself with green tea and a cup of black coffee for him. You’d picked up on the fact that he liked the beverage without sugar and cream like the total heathen he is. You idly wondered if he even enjoyed sweet things or maybe he was one of those weird folks who liked sour and spicy stuff all the time.

The fact that you’re even thinking about this and it didn’t sink in as odd or out of place until the moment you crossed the threshold of HYSY Studios, taking note of the fact that the place is as gloomy and empty of customers as always.

“’Ey! Uta, where you at!?”

There’s a vibration against your leg. You juggle the items in your hold carefully before tugging out your cellphone and entering the passcode to unlock the phone. The most recent text message you’d received from Uta about four minutes ago informed you of the fact that he’s in the back of the studio, like the very, very back, where all the unused and returned masks were. Now the only reason you knew all this information is because of how often you pestered Uta about it.

You’re at an impasse.

You could do as he asked and bring your treat to him while you were at it or you could wait and avoid the potential jump scare that Uta was totally capable of inflicting upon you.

‘To go or not to go, that is the question.’

Everything pointed to the clear conclusion that no, you absolutely should not go back there. Every horror movie cliché ended with the female protagonist being killed or gravely injured because she was so stupid as to go in the dark, alone, by herself.

‘Uta isn’t a killer though.’ That’s what you tried to tell yourself, the argument weak and pitiful in your brain.

You did not know this man well enough to be in the back where it wouldn’t be easy access to the front door, where you couldn’t bolt if he did something strange. However, you did own a mini taser and always carried mace, just as a precaution, so...

So....

Slowly, reluctantly, you did as he instructed, every warning and life training you’d received up to this point in your life sending out red neon signs telling you to wait, not be an idiot, to please please stay where you are. And you ignored all those survival instincts, heading deeper into the studio, your footfalls loud and eerie the further in you went.

Until you find him.

He’s apparently unfazed by your belated presence, focus wholly consumed with his work. Red on black eyes glanced at you for but a moment and what you carried and then at the coffee. “There’s a mini fridge, leave everything there, except the coffee. I’m almost done.”

Having some mild experience with artists and creative sorts, you avoid looking at the mask he’s working on, instead setting down the coffee in an empty space he vaguely gestured to.

Then you walk the short distance to where the only mini fridge in the room is, reaching out, you pull it open. And it’s the scent that alerts you; the fresh tang of blood. It’s too late to stop yourself and you see it, everything. The jar of eyeballs, the carefully wrapped packages of ‘meat’.

‘I’m in a back room with the potential copycat Jeffery Dahmer or...or....’

You’re not an idiot, all these little things you’d casually dismissed because you hadn’t cared enough to pay attention, to see... And now here you are. Here you are.

Fuck.

Swallowing, you calm and dampen the inner voice sCREAMING, then casually as possible, grip wobbling only slightly, do you put your treat inside the mini fridge right alongside the human body parts and flesh, then close the door, turning around.

Uta is still hard at work on the mask but his movements are slowing down.

As if nothing is amiss, you stride over just as he finally pauses to take a sip of coffee. “This is one of the ways that you make masks. Really. That’s interesting…” And you meant it too. Legs crossed, you leaned against the table, watching the mask maker in his element.

He smiles at you in that enigmatic way. “Thank you.”

The visit continues without much else in the way of incidents and subtly unsubtle revelations.

You don’t really talk and Uta doesn’t make you.

Less than twenty minutes later, once he deems the mask complete, he stands up and stretches, arms raising overhead, revealing an expanse of creamy, pale, lean and muscled torso.

Glancing away a beat too late, you catch Uta as he smiles, again, the smile lengthens into a smirk. He reaches out and plucks up the half mask delicately, taking a step towards you and your heart traitorously lurches in your chest.

Self-preservation makes you want to run as he comes closer, closer, closer...

Logic keeps you rooted in place as he carefully puts the mask on you. Tattooed fingers brush the strands of hair away from the nape of your neck, lingering as he feels the flutter of your pulse beneath his fingertips.

“Your heart is racing like a hummingbird.” he muses. You stare out at him from beneath the safety of the mask, the bone surprisingly not pinching or cutting your skin. “And here I thought nothing could scare you.”

“Unfortunately fear makes up the majority of the human psyche.” You can’t help the quip, tone dry. “But you’re my friend, so it’s fine.”

That last comment causes Uta to blink and stare at you in blatant surprise for a minute or two. Then he pulls himself together and shakes his head, a chuckle rumbling through his chest. “...I suppose we are friends.”

“Cool. So how much for the mask?” You reach up, about to remove it but Uta swatted at your hands, the action hard enough to sting but not leave damage. You still squawk indignantly anyway.

“It’s free. Creating it got me out of my block, so thank you.” Bringing out a cellphone, he takes a couple pictures with you, making you turn, pose, and pretty much just show off.

Once he’s done, he snags your tea and cream puffs out the fridge, then walks you to the front of the studio, giving a small wave goodbye. Brain swimming with what you just learned, amazed that he hadn’t just killed you straight off, you glance at the chilled green tea in your hand then after mentally shrugging to yourself, you take a sip and shove a cream puff in your mouth.

Hell, after the day you’ve had, you deserve to be rewarded.

Time passes, as it inevitably does.

You receive more calls from Kiani, from other friends and family members, but you are resolute in staying in Japan.

Much to your surprise, you’d actually gotten comfortable being there. Though that might have had something to do with Uta, who you continue to visit, and if he’s surprised or put out, none of that shows on his face. It’s fun to drag him places, to be around him, and you can laugh at his jokes, even the deadpan, making-fun-of-humanity ones.

He even lets you meet his other ghoul friends, Itori and Renji.

Through it all, these changes and fun things, your health slowly, steadily, gets worse even as you and Uta get closer, muddling about in a rather confusing grey area of friends...and more...

As always, the two of you are hanging out, this time you’d dragged him to an amusement park, and he held onto some of the prizes you won, gamely snapped a couple photos of you in ridiculous poses and making silly faces, etc.

It felt like a date.

Like, you’re returning from a date.

When that thought ran through your brain, you automatically looked at Uta, catching sight of his profile in the light of the setting sun and your heart clenched as you realized that he’s beautiful.

It’s with difficulty that you manage to look away but not before he catches you staring from the corner of his eye. “You’re always looking at me… Yet, you never try and get closer…” Uta’s hands are in his pockets and he is barely a foot away. “Does fear keep you at a distance…” He took a step forward.

Coming almost uncomfortably close.

“Or is there another….”

Without conscious thought, you tilt your head up and your lips meet his.

The contact is light, barely a graze, and there’s the cool sensation of his lip ring...it’s odd but hardly distracting. Your heart is beating like a jack rabbit in your chest and you know this isn’t good for you.

As you go to pull away, to disconnect, that’s when Uta finally, finally, responds.

He places a hand on the back of your neck, keeping you close before tilting his head, leaned in and kissed you again.

There’s nothing teasing or patient about it. He nipped your bottom lip, barely waiting for you to part your lips before his tongue twined and stroked, expertly playing with your own, and you felt a zing of excitement travel down you spine as your tongue lightly grazed his tongue ring.

Your right hand goes to his shoulder, squeezing, holding on desperately as your legs threaten to give out.

Effortlessly, Uta holds you up, his other hand going to the dip of your back, and when you break the kiss to get some air into your burning lungs, Uta peppers feather light kisses down the column of your throat, sucking a spot just behind your ear. Only when you gasp his name, a mere whisper of a breath really, only then, does he finally stop.

Uta tops that....bombardment off with a light kiss to your forehead, lingering. Then he murmurs into your ear, “That’s how you kiss me from now on.”

With his piece said, as if he hadn’t pretty much swept you off your feet and left you stuck in LaLa Land, Uta brushed a hand down his shirt, straightening out imaginary wrinkles, before he walked away. It took a few seconds for your brain to reboot and then you hurried after him, chastising him for being mean.

There are a hundred different words that lingered on the edge and never escape your mouth. A thousand questions you never got the answer to.

There are no more kisses between you and Uta.

You pass away in your sleep that night December 31, 2XXX at 11:59 P.M. alone in your rented hotel room, dreaming of an impossible reality; of happiness between yourself and the ghoul who for a brief moment, made you feel important, seen, and desired.

Almost as if he could love you.

#uta #tokyo ghoul #uta imagine #black reader #uta tokyo ghoul #tokyo ghoul imagine #uta x reader #tg #human reader #tg imagine #thekrazykeke

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dandelion-person · 4 years

Text

You know, I absolutely adore playing as a dwarf. I have a heartfelt connection to them. But aside from my personal preference, I find the character development to be wonderful. In Origins, when you play as a noble, my favorite part about the backstory in general is how warden develops. He/she starts as royalty, some wonderful person who very well may absolutely hate being rich. Hates the way they are looked at, but knows no other way. Someone who does their duty unquestioning and loyally. Who thinks of battle as something as simple as dusting the house. Perhaps they are even in a forbidden love with their second. These things: hiding relationships, knowing your death is tangible on any given day be it by darkspawn or relatives, never getting to be seen as a simply normal dwarf, are just a normal part of life. Until everything changes. And you’re thrown into this world that is ever so bright and scary. Something totally different. And you, young warden, are so practiced in the ways you have lived that people often mistake you for being callous. Monotone. Unfazed. They’re not wrong. At this point, it takes a lot to rattle you. But this is your life now. And you must learn.

I love thinking about the various situations Aeducan finds themselves in. Stumbling out of the deep roads barefoot into the wardens, who are visibly shocked, battering you with questions that should have been comforting, only to be so numb and hardened that the only thing you can muster is a very formal “it is good to see you again, Duncan.”

Then, meeting Alistair, watching the conversation with a mage and apparently something to do with these odd human religions and traditions with the most resting bitch face imaginable. As is your habit. You’ve grown accustomed to never showing emotion. Dwarves are accustomed to battle and honor and tradition, not emotion. And Alistair, thinking you’re offended or something and you simply replying with “You must be Alistair.” You didn’t mean to sound so scary, wow.

Then Duncan, briefing you on your joining tasks, and you, switching automatically into army general mode, asking the strategies and alternative solutions should problems arise. Duncan finds himself smiling internally. Your level head will surely balance Alistair’s emotional panic in the future.

On to Morrigan. These humans never cease to amaze you. She has nearly no clothing on. How can she survive a battle? None of this shows on your face of course. The never changing diplomatic hardened expression masks your internalized thoughts. It is at times a blessing, not allowing others to see your confusion and fear and curiousity as you learn this new world.

Battle at first is a bit distracting. You’re caught off guard by the fear and disgust the other recruits show. It’s as if they’ve never seen darkspawn...but wait. They haven’t. And you’re reminded again of your people (of whom will never speak of you again) who have faced these monsters for centuries. You find yourself wondering if these humans had experienced the hug of their mother. Harmless games with their fathers. Bonding with their siblings. You consider your own personal family life. You suppose in your own dwarven ways, your family had been very close. But you know if you were to ever try to explain that to these humans, that your version of bonding with your brothers had been training so harshly and brutally that you had sometimes had to spend days in the medicinal wing, they would think you a monster or a war machine. Perhaps...perhaps that’s what you are.

Then waking up in the hut. A pounding headache and intense body pain. You shift into automatic response. Is my duty completed? Are my men safe? What must be done to finish the assigned task. You walk outside to find Alistair. Who expresses some strange sort of gratitude, for what you don’t understand. You consider that humans take death very personally. Death is not something humans are ready and willing to face at any moment. How strange. You think your face must display some sort of confusion, because you swear you see Alistair give a small sad smile. Almost like he’s pitying you. The very look of it makes your stomach turn. Pity is for the weak.

Then there’s Leliana. The most odd creature you’ve found yourself encountering in this new strange land where the sky seems like it can swallow you. She speaks of some man in the sky. You presume a human. She has tried to explain it to you, but it makes no sense. Your body will one day return to the stone from which it came...but then you think further. Perhaps you won’t be returned to the stone. You’ve been exiled. There is no longer somewhere for you to go after you die. For the first time in your life, dying in battle doesn’t seem like a desirable choice.

Sten, oh Sten. Sten quickly becomes one of your most trusted companions. You and him understand each other. Sten is not blinded by emotion and vengeance. Sten exists. And you can appreciate that. Sten has a purpose. Long ago, you were a lot like Sten. Now, you have no idea of your purpose. This world confuses you. You take each day as it comes. Something you’re not used to and find quite annoying. You do not know what to expect. The one thing you can appreciate though, is duty. Duty you took upon yourself. You pride yourself in it really. For the first time, you are doing something that you chose to do. Something not assigned to you. Something you control. It is comforting, and when you look at the sky and grip your toes into the ground so it doesn’t swallow you, you think of this one piece of your culture that will always stay with you: your duty. Sten helps you realize this. And with Sten, you find yourself talking strategy. In some ways, Sten reminds you of Trian. In other ways, Gorim. You cherish Sten. He is a rock in this strange floating bright world.

Then comes Zevran. One of the first elves you’ve ever spoken to in depth actually. Among the first you’ve ever encountered. You find yourself considering him almost to be charming? The word sounds foul to you. He’s a piss poor rogue. Of this you know. At first you find him rather annoying? Almost angering? A piss poor rogue and an even poorer assassin, he turns his back on his duty immediately. You find his desire to avoid death deplorable. But for some reason, the idea of killing him (for the first time in your life mind you) strikes you as being morally wrong. Why? You weren’t sure. Perhaps it was your vacancy for tendencies of vengeance. You did not even seek to kill Bhelen after all. Bhelen had simply done what any dwarf would’ve, had they been smart enough. Bhelen’s act did not provoke hard feelings. You still loved him even. Your little brother had grown into an outstanding noble and you could not deny that. He had simply beaten you at a game. Once again, if you expressed this opinion to your human companions after they learned your story, they considered you to be insane. Apparently, vengeance is a common thing amongst humans. Humans, you feel, are incapable of accepting that which they do not enjoy. You find this odd. Relating back to Zevran, Zevran is not human. And though he acts nothing like the odd elves from the trees (the first trees you’d ever seen by the way), Zevran is refreshingly morally corrupt. The more you get to know him, the more he reminds you of your people. And this is comforting. He tells you of Antiva. Perhaps you even ask him if he will someday take you there. Maybe there would feel like home. It certainly sounds like the politics are the same. Zevran’s moral instability and cowardice are exactly what makes him so comforting. He makes you feel at home.

Sorry, I suppose those are just some ramblings/drabbles that go through my head when I play as a dwarf. Let me know if you’d like me to write any other background stories. I’ve played them all. The way my brain can spin their personalities and character development affects the way I build each character. I’d love to share more if anyone liked this!

PS: I have played all 3 games. The only backstory I haven’t played so far is the Qunari and it will have to wait because I just upgraded from 360 to One and now I have to buy another inquisition.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 years

Text

tapestry 👑 XVIII

Warnings: eventual dark elements (tags to be added as fic continues)

This is dark!(king)Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: King Steven had a wandering eye but you never thought it would fall upon you.

This Chapter: The reader struggles.

Note: Bienvenue power bottoms. So hopefully I can post another chapter on xmas eve then have my day off from everything while I slave over a turkey dinner :) I work straight through the week with the exception of xmas itself and I’m hoping y’all are enjoying it. Also sorry about tags. I can’t really keep up bc I have no other time and these are usually queued to go up when I work and I don’t tag in original posts because they don’t work.

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply! Love ya!

masterlist

The trial stretched beyond a fortnight. The council called a dozen more witnesses to the stand as they examined both the queen’s behaviour and her alleged role in the poisoning.

Several stablehands testified to her role in your injury, another half dozen kitchen servants were called to answer for the preparation of the king’s tainted breakfast, and Eleanor’s own personal servants were questioned on her marriage. They all reaffirmed the story being laid out so perfectly against her.

With each day, you found yourself more on edge. As you listened to the witnesses, as you thought of the last night you’d spoken to the queen, of her earnest pleas, you found yourself watching her. You prayed, against all that faced her, that she would not meet that most final and cruel fate. For if she did, you could not help but feel your hand in it.

That day was no different. Your chest felt tight and you found it hard to breathe as you entered the courtroom. You were exhausted of being there. The room must have been as grim as the cell they kept Eleanor in. The light that glowed through the stained glass was blinding and near torturous. The seat was hard and unforgiving beneath your skirts. The air was suffocating. You didn’t know how much longer you could stand it.

The room went silent as the cardinal stood and announced the commencement of proceedings. Ellis stood and lingered by the bench for a moment. He bent to hear whatever slithering words your father whispered in his ear. Your shoulders slumped as they called for Eleanor and the door opened; the usual whine of hinges that mourned her each day.

She stood at the podium and her blonde hair shone in the morning light. She wore another white gown as she resumed her vigil. Ellis approached his own perch and unwrapped his paper from his leather folder. He took his time as if to rile the queen; as if to draw the audience to impatience.

“Your holy cardinals, your highnesses, your grace,” He addressed each figurehead with a nod. “Today we would call a most important witness to stand and hope that this case is even closer to its conclusion. We have tarried here for long and I know we do grow weary but we must not leave a stone unturned.”

All in the room seemed to squirm at Ellis’ words. All were tired of his airy words and prolonging tangents. They were eager to reach the end of it; if not to be free of the courtroom but to see how it would all come together. Though it was not difficult to surmise how it would end.

“So today, we call a witness who did find herself at the mercy of the queen’s wrath and one of only a few witnesses to the attempted murder of King Steven.” Ellis spoke flatly but his voice built; almost excited. “The court shall call upon the youngest daughter of Malford.”

Slowly, the audience turned and craned on the benches to look at you. You blinked, stunned. You were certain you’d imagined the announcement. How could they call you without warning? How could they call you to testify on a queen who had outrightly declared herself your enemy? How could they expect you to do anything more than you already had?

“Lady,” Marion nudged you and you looked to her dumbly. “They call on you.”

You just stared at her and shook your head. She took your elbow and stood. She pulled you to your feet as you latched onto her wrist.

“Please,” You whispered. “Please, I can’t.”

She looked at you startled. Sad, even. “You must.” She peeled your fingers from around her wrist and squeezed your hand. “I can’t go with you.”

You trembled and raised your head. You glanced around at the benches and then to the cardinals and royals. All watched you intently; with untethered expectation. You grabbed your skirts and held your breath as you walked along the row to the aisle.

You descended to the floor where the queen stood across from Ellis and the judges loomed in their box opposite the other. You passed behind the queen as you went to the witness stand and stepped up to the podium. You let out a long exhale and released your skirts.

“My lady, do you swear to the truth entirely and without censor before these cardinals and before our lord in this court of the See?” Ellis asked.

You glanced over at the queen. Her face was set in a cool mask as she refused to acknowledge you. Your eyes floated up to the box where the king sat. He sat with his shoulders set and stared you down. You lowered your chin and cleared your throat. Finally, you found the strength to lift your head again.

“I do.” You said as firmly as you could. “Though I do not promise I can offer any truth you shall find convenient.”

“Very well, my lady, you need only be honest with the court,” Ellis replied and flipped the paper before him before turning it back. “What is your relationship with King Steven?”

You were shocked by the question. Your head pulsed as the words returned to you; ‘Do not let yourself fall into the same trap.’ You gulped and focused on Ellis. Don’t look at the kings or the cardinals, just stand and tell the truth.

“I did serve his wife, Queen Eleanor, for two years past,” You said. “But our relationship has been strictly as any king’s would be with any unwed lady.”

“And your relationship with Eleanor? What is, or was, that like?”

“I sat among her ladies and found her to be a most generous queen. She was ever kind to me…” You pressed your hands flat to your skirts as they began to sweat.

“Generous? Kind? How was it then that she came to rig your saddle upon a hunt and nearly maim you as a result?” Ellis intoned. “That does not seem to fit your description of her demeanour.”

“She was those things until a point,” You admitted. “But I never did see her as entirely cruel, only… hurt.”

“Hurt? And why should she be hurt by the daughter of an earl who for two years has gone unnoticed and unaffected?” Ellis asked sharply. “Did it perhaps relate to the king’s favour for you?”

“It might have. Surely, it did for she did say it,” You said. “But I could not blame her.”

“You would not blame her? Is that because your relationship with the king was more than just a lady and king’s acquaintance should be?”

“No, no,” You shook your head. “It was never more than propriety should permit but…” You looked at the queen.

“But…?” Ellis led and you shrugged as you looked forward again. “How was it you came to favour with the king?”

“I suppose he enjoyed my company,” You answered plainly. “But I did warn him of the circumstance. I did remind him that I was a lady who did seek a proper and true marriage.”

“And so there never came to be anything untoward between you and the king?” Ellis prompted.

“If you ask if I was his mistress, I can attest the answer is no. If you ask if I did seek to distract him from his wife, the answer is no.” You stated bluntly. “I never wanted any of this. I never wanted to be stood here opposite this woman in such a circumstance. I never wanted her to guide her husband towards me or to have such attentions grow so dubious.

“If you ask if I believe the queen to be malicious, I do not. If you ask if I believe her to have attempted to intimidate me thereafter, I do, but I do not believe her to have done so with the intent of true harm.” You frowned at Ellis as he tapped his fingers on his podium. “If you ask if I think she should face such dire consequences and be cast out, I do not. I do not wish this upon any.”

There was a stir from the benches and flurry of whispers. You didn’t move. You didn’t look behind you or beside you.

“And when you say she guided her husband towards you, what do you mean?” Ellis pondered.

“I…” You began.

“Did Eleanor intend to lead Steven to adultery?” He asked.

“I don’t… I don’t know what she intended.” You rasped.

“But you say she guided him? How do you know she did? Or is this a supposition?”

You blanched and peeked at the queen. Her brow wrinkled as her eyes bored into the stained glass.

“Did she ever tell you of such intents?” Ellis prodded.

You looked back to him and let your shoulders slump. “Yes,” You breathed. “She did suggest to me that she was unhappy with the king’s former mistress and she wished him to be more modest in his affairs.”

“His affairs? And what proof did she have of these affairs?”

“I don’t know.” You swallowed. “The court spoke of them.”

“Rumours? The same which would paint you in the same light though you uphold your virtue?”

“I… Yes, I suppose they would be rumours.”

“And so it would not be ridiculous to assume that Eleanor intended to defame Steven? That she, perhaps, sought to deflect the guilt from herself?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is it true, my lady, that Eleanor did banish you from court?” Ellis continued, unfazed.

“She did.” You affirmed.

“And why did she do this?”

“I do not know. Because she did not like the king’s attentions towards me.”

“But you did not indulge her ploy?”

“I did not. I never attended the king without a witness and I never did seek him out,” You said.

“And so she was unhappy that you did not take the role she assigned you in her attempts to disparage Steven?”

“She might have been but I cannot say with certainty.”

“So would you still call Eleanor kind and generous?”

“I… I… don’t know.” You grasped your skirts tightly.

“My lady, you are distressed? Why?” Ellis dropped the paper in his hand.

“Because I was unaware that I should stand here today. Because I never thought to answer these questions as such.” You hung your head and exhaled. “Because I never wanted to cause anyone else so much grief.”

“But if this should be the truth, then you should not have been the cause of all this grief.” Ellis argued. “And you needn’t feel so bad for saying it. It is the truth, isn’t it?”

“I can’t lie,” You raised your head. “I could not and I fear that has been the cause of all this.”

“And do you think then, that should Eleanor’s attempt to poison Steven and yourself had been successful, it would’ve been earned because you did evade her will?”

“N-no,” You winced. “No, I only think she felt as any woman would have.”

“And would you, in a similar situation, have turned to such a final resolution?”

“No, b-but I do not… I don’t…” You blinked as your eyes burned. “I do not wish to see Eleanor harmed. I stand here and I do not wish her ill, as I do not think she wished it on me. Not in so much as this court would infer. I only think she was angry and her pride wounded. I cannot forsake her when I never believe she did the same to me.”

“So, if you do not believe it was Eleanor who poisoned you, who would have motive to do so?” Ellis continued.

You opened your mouth than closed it. “I… the king has a taster for the very purpose that poison is a danger. I suppose there would be many unseen enemies.”

“But should those enemies also wish to affect you? Who else could seek to act against both the king and yourself?”

“I… I…” You sputtered and shook your head. You looked at Eleanor, her eyes were downcast. Her veneer had softened. She looked vulnerable as a rainbow glinted off her pale skin and ivory dress. “I don’t know.”

“And you have heard the testimony of this trial? Of the servants who swore to the queen’s orders and her own hand in the act of treason? Do you think that your belief in the queen should disprove their accounts of the events?”

You peered around desperately. The cardinals watched you with vacant interest and the three figures in the kings’ box leaned forward eagerly to hear you. Steven’s eyes were crinkled with blatant intrigue. His lips threatened to curve.

“I suppose… No.” You said softly.

“My lady, do not blame yourself. You are young and naive, but you have behaved most admirably in your circumstance. Your innocence has led you to misjudge the queen and we cannot hold that against you.” Ellis pontificated as a priest would at confession. “How can we condemn a young lady such as yourself who did hold herself to the upright standards of morality when she was surrounded by such misconduct?”

You were silent. You reached to the podium to brace yourself as you felt like to crumple.

“My lady, we thank you for your honesty this day. We commend your comportment in these matters and we do hope that we can seek for you and all those who have been affected justice and truth.” Ellis ran his fingers along the sides of his papers until they were straight. “You may step down.”

You stood stunned. You didn’t move until you sensed a figure beside you. A guard in mail beckoned you down from the stand and helped you down from the shallow platform. The audience was rapt as they watched you retreat from the stage and as you approached the benches, they all stood. As you walked along the aisle, they bowed their heads.

You walked carefully along the bench and resumed your seat beside Marion. The people sat and Marion touched the back of your hand. Your fingers were curled around the fabric of your skirts. You sat stiffly as you tried to see through the blur which rose in your vision.

“My lady,” Marion whispered, “You did well.”

👑

That night was the most restless you had ever known. Even those days before your debut at court, you had never been so unsettled. Eleanor's face stained your mind and kept you awake. The king's too.

When at last you gave up and rose, you dressed in the dark. An old plain gown without a corset beneath. You pulled a cloak over your shoulder and slipped your feet into a pair of slippers. You hid your hair beneath the loose hood of the cloak. You lit a lamp and held it aloft.

You tiptoed to the doors and pulled one open. You were greeted by the mailed guard who stood outside as he turned to look at you. He didn't say a word, only held out his arm to block your way.

"I only wish to go for a walk," You said. "I cannot sleep."

He stared at you and squinted. You saw him weigh his thoughts. He slowly lowered his arm and nodded.

"I will follow." He stated. "As my duty would have me."

"Very well," You allowed. "Though I don't know that my enemies lurk in the night but rather stand proudly in the light."

He did not reply. He merely waited until you stepped out and pulled shut the door behind you. You set off along the corridor and he kept a pace back. The light of the lantern formed a small halo around you. Your slippers padded on the stone as the guards boots echoed loudly behind you.

You’d never walked the corridors so late. You wondered if perhaps it was wise to. Your doubt quickly passed as your mind returned to the day’s events; your turn at the stand; the way your heart plummeted when you thought of the queen’s expression. As if she had realized something but was too afraid to truly face it.

You walked without heed to direction. You were certain you made more than one circle before straying in your reverie. You stopped before the dark corridor. Bleak and vacant. You raised your lantern as you crept along the offshoot and turned to look up at the tapestry that hung from a peg high on the wall.

The rosettes were colourful in the lamplight, even as shadows drowned in their creases. You shuddered as you felt a draft around your neck. You leaned and reached to pinch a rosette between your fingers. The very one you’d sewn that day months ago. You tugged at it until the thread snapped and it unraveled in your hand. The red silk looked like blood as it rippled over your palm.

Your guard snapped to attention and his blade whispered against its sheath. You stood straight and looked along the corridor from behind him. The footsteps came clearer and he drew his steel entirely. A shadow appeared at the mouth of the hallway. It held a glowing orb.

“Who goes there?” The guard readied his sword. The shadow approached as the light distorted its features.

“It is only me,” Lord Barnes angled his candle away from his face. He stopped short as he spotted you behind the guard. “You would allow the lady to wander at night?”

“I have been told to keep watch over her,” The guard replied plainly. “And I have done that. She is safe with me.”

“We have many visitors in the castle. Many unknown faces.” Barnes said. “Harder to recognize in the dark.”

“And should I worry of those who do lurk in the dark?” You stepped up beside the guard.

“Some,” Barnes replied. “Though not all.”

“Not all?” You countered.

“Yes, surely none should fear you.” He chided.

“I only wander, my lord, to soothe my wandering mind,” You assured him. “I do not seek out trouble.”

“You need not seek it out to find it.” He grinned and the candle caught his sapphire like eyes. “I was only upon my way from a late night meeting. The trial does extend one day into the next.”

“So it does.” You agreed and rubbed the red silk with your thumb. His eyes flicked to the subtle movement. He squinted then nodded in recognition. He leaned over to glance behind you through the black.

“We can wish away the past but we can not unravel the threads of time,” He mused. “Do you wander or do you find yourself trapped and seek to find the way out?”

You hung your head and brought the fabric closer to examine it. The wrinkles of its former twists marred the smooth silk. The lines could not be steamed or ironed out. They would remain after so long restrained.

“How the time does seem to pass so slowly and yet so quickly.” You said and tucked away the fabric. “And this night does wane in kind.”

“My lady,” He stepped closer, but not too close, and your guard clinked his sword against the stone. “You cannot undo what is done. You would only torture yourself by dwelling on it.”

“This court is all so eager to forget. To sweep aside what was and for what?”

“You think too much.”

“Or not enough. Perhaps if I had thought more, I’d not be in this position.”

“Or perhaps you’d be in worse.” He breathed. “You cannot save her, but you can save yourself.”

“And what do you care?” You challenged.

He shrugged. “I’ve seen women come and go. Now I should see the one I never thought to see gone on her way out. And I see you and I foresee the same. But I also see another end. A better one which you might attain should you learn from those who came before. Should you use that which the other women never had to your favour.”

“Which would be?”

“His love. You might not believe it to be such but it is as close as he’ll ever know,” He said. “Foster it. Nurture it. For if you appease his heart, you do assure your fate.”

You shook your head and the lamplight wavered and cast shadows over him. “Why do you say this to me?”

“Because I do not relish the thought of seeing you in Eleanor’s place,” He said as he stood straight. “In fact, I think I might fear that as much as you.”

You stared at him in the firelight. He wasn’t the sardonic lord or staunch advisor, he was just him. He was genuine. And he was the first you’d know at court to be thus. Your lips parted but your thoughts never reached them.

“I shall bid you good night, my lady,” He said. “I should hope you find yourself safely back to your chambers.”

“And you, my lord,” You returned. He bowed and hesitated before he finally turned away. You watched him go and let the lamp hang at your side.

“If I may, my lady,” Your guard remarked. “I think he might be right.”

“Do you think that?” You looked to him in the dull glow of the lamp.

“Why surely,” He said, “It would be a pity to end up as the queen has.”

#tapestry #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #dark steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #medieval au #au #series #fic #dark!fic #dark fic #mcu #marvel #captain america #bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes

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lessonsfrommadamexmas · 4 years

Text

Spite and Temptation

Summary: Brigadier General Armstrong needs competent snipers for Fort Briggs and her eyes are set on a certain hawk. While Lieutenant Colonel Mustang knows she doesn’t stand a chance, the dispute seems too entertaining to pass. Link to AO3 (3-chapter fic).

@meridianheroine here it is! Thank you so much for your endless patience.

Chapter 2

The blonde woman’s long hair locks danced with her every hurried step under the burning sunlight. She only had a few minutes before noon and hoped to find the Hawk’s Eye at the shooting range.

The place was quiet due to it being lunch time, Olivier assumed. The young soldier at the front desk looked busier than his surroundings seemed to demand. He informed her that Hawkeye’s time was up, thus offering to take her to the shooting booth.

Olivier saw an unfazed girl whose sharp senses were traduced in her posture as she aimed and fired. Like child’s play.

— Brigadier General Olivier Armstrong — the man announced.

Hawkeye left her rifle down and stood in attention.

— Sir!

— Ease. So you’re the famous Hawk’s Eye. It is nice to meet you.

Compared to the Lieut. Colonel, her demeanor was on the opposite side of the spectrum. Hawkeye, too, had predominantly immature features, but her wide eyes and round jawline were masked by the seriousness and professionalism that reminded Oliver of herself. So far, she was meeting all expectations.

— Honored to meet you, sir. I’ve seen Major Armstrong speak very dearly of you. Coming to shoot?

— Too bad I can’t say the same about that deserter. I’ve come to speak to you, actually. I know it’s lunch time, so I’ll be brief.

— To me?

The general indicated the way out and both of them started walking.

— Briggs is recruiting and you are the perfect candidate for our sniping team. It has been decided in this morning’s meeting that your abilities are better suited for the Northern border, and I was lucky enough to have you around, so I thought I might come personally to deliver the news.

— That’s, again, an honor, sir — she replied, and although showing mild confusion, she didn’t appear to be easily impressed.

— Now, I heard you’re already aiming at a different position.

— That is true. I plan to stay here in the East.

— Under Lieutenant Colonel Mustang, isn’t it?

Judging by the sniper’s surprised look, the general concluded she might have sounded like some creepy stalker.

— We’ve talked just a while ago — she added. — He told me I might find you here, in fact. I confess I was left curious about what led to this choice. I can see right away how different the two of you are.

— I believe we do have things in common, sir. Apparently, we’ve both made a name for ourselves during the war.

— You, however, isn’t the kind to support yourself on a title, am I correct?

— I would say my deeds in Ishval are exactly what I want to be remembered for. Yet, I hope my future contributions to Amestris can surpass my performance in the War of Extermination in some way.

Hawkeye’s fleumatic humor wasn’t easy to read, despite the fact that she was trying to hide a lot less than Mustang. She was simply being herself and there was some kind of passion, or cause, behind her impassive looks which Olivier couldn’t pinpoint.

— In that case, you could stay in the shadow of an alchemist, or you could step up to a leadership role.

— That’s another thing we have in common, sir. I’m the daughter of Berthold Hawkeye. An alchemist from the region known for discovering and developing the powers of Flame Alchemy.

Armstrong couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at that intriguing statement. They had a history, then.

— The Lieut. Colonel may be laid-back, but he does his job — the sniper continued. — He mastered Flame Alchemy on his own after my father passed. A power like the one he carries must be protected, especially when it offers little defense. I am certain I’ll be serving my country by serving under the Flame Alchemist, sir. And I am certain First Sergeant Dorovan can provide you other outstanding names for Briggs.

— Very well. This brief conversation only further proved your potential. Tell me you will at least give it a thought. And perhaps seek advice from someone experienced like the First Sergeant, even though you’re a rank higher than her now.

— I wouldn’t refuse your offer so quickly. I appreciate it.

Courtesy. That was the moment Olivier realized why Mustang had been so smug.

Olivier returned to the building reflecting about what else she could do before her departure to Briggs the next day. It wasn’t as if she had to add the Hawk’s Eye to the team. Undoubtedly, General Solon was an ambitious man who strived for the best he could have, and she was no different. The Armstrong family was determined, hardworking and always ready to reach their goals. Those were values passed down their line from generations! Thus, if her mission was to gather the most competent soldiers to Briggs, she would do her part.

— Brigadier General, sir. How did it go?

Not again.

— What a tiny place the Eastern headquarters is, that we keep crossing paths... — she mentioned, allowing suspicion to fill her voice, but didn’t wait for a reply. — I managed to talk to her. Thanks.

— That’s great, sir — he replied, but his eyes were shining to gather further information.

— Who wouldn’t want a sharp soldier working for them, isn’t that right, Lieut. Colonel? Sometimes a good team takes us further than our own individual efforts.

— Our efforts start with good choices, indeed, sir.

— However, you should be able to let go of an officer more needed in a different position.

— General Armstrong, sir. I would never stay in Hawkeye’s way. Especially when there are several aspiring soldiers seeking to work under the Flame Alchemist. However, not every man is eager to climb the ladder like you and I. I’m afraid all I can do is advise her to consider if I see her around.

If he was shaking behind that confidence, she wouldn’t know, but Olivier was more aware of their strong bond by the second. From childhood friends to war comrades wasn’t something to underestimate.

— I wouldn’t ask nothing else. Till next time, Mustang.

— Sir. Have a safe trip back.

As she continued to walk by the endless hallways of the headquarters, the future ruler of Briggs settled for playing with the cards she had. She wouldn’t say Riza Hawkeye was devoid of ambition, in fact, the officer knew exactly what she wanted and, although reserved, her loyalty to her father and admiration for the Flame Alchemist showed. Olivier could hardly fight that, but she could take advantage of it, in order to at least deliver the hawk to Solon.

Well, it wouldn’t hurt to spend the rest of her free time trying to coincidently stumble across her target.

That might have been a mistake. She would have preferred to have lunch on a quieter time, instead, decided to try her luck and search for Hawkeye there. In the crowded cafeteria. Olivier had been the smallest of the family for the majority of her life, but never the most subtle one. That short trip was revealing itself more demanding than she expected and the meeting had been the easiest part so far.

She stretched her neck and started to look around discreetly for a blonde soldier with short hair and prominent bang while waiting in line. The two men beside her seemed to notice, but as long as she wasn’t spotted first by the Warrant Officer, she didn’t care. The general turned her attention to all the food on her track. It was time to move to a table and no sign of Hawkeye around.

She took a few steps towards the wall, behind a group of soldiers chatting with their empty tracks in hand, and continued her search. Soon, she spotted a table on the corner where the Warrant Officer ate by herself. All she had to do was walk a straight line and…

— Oh, Warrant Officer. I see you’re almost done, can I sit here?

The woman returned her fork and knife to the plate and replied:

— Sir, of course — Couldn’t find who you were looking for?

Awkward.

— Yeah, you saw me? — she asked casually while taking a sit across from her and placing her track on the table. — At least this table is free in case he still shows up. And you? Giving my proposal any thought?

— I said I would, sir. However, please, don’t keep your hopes up.

Despite all respect Olivier had gathered for Hawkeye, the woman’s stillness was starting to get to her nerves. She needed to shake her up and see what was in there.

— Hawkeye, I believe you aren’t seeing this opportunity for what it is.

— What do you mean, sir?

— Perhaps you see it purely in terms of getting a position, but there’s a lot more you can gain from trying. The North is out of your comfort zone. Nothing like boot camp or the desert night cold, just another kind of challenge. It is for the few and that’s why we go through a period of adaptation, but I don’t think that scares you.

— Some training process?

Finally, there was a sparkle of curiosity in her eyes.

— It could be seen that way. Practical tests to evaluate who’s physically ready for Briggs. I don’t simply bring people to the fort, Hawkeye. I prepare them so that, wherever they go in the future, they’re better. Grab this chance — the general said gazing at her with purpose — and only then decide if you’ll wave it off.

Olivier Armstrong was now betting on the extent of Riza Hawkeye’s loyalty.

[read chapter 3 on AO3]

#Olivier Mira Armstrong #Roy Mustang #riza hawkeye #royai

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scandalsavagefanfic · 4 years

Text

DC Kink Meme Prompts List

Since the kink meme is getting a lot of attention and growing daily, I thought I’d post a convenient place where I can keep track of the prompts that I’d like to see filled again. I figure you’re all here because we share similar interests and this way, if you’re a writer with looking for a prompt, you don’t have to scroll through the almost 400 prompts that are currently posted.

So here we go. Beware, this is a kink meme. These are nsfw and some may be triggering.

JayDick Watersports - Filled HERE

sub!Jason & Dom!Dick are in a consensual D/s relationship that has a heavy Master/slave dynamic (whether 24/7 or primarily during sex is up to you!). They're on a stakeout one night, and it's really cold, and, aw, fuck, Dick needs to piss, but he doesn't want his dick to freeze. Good thing he's got his bitch there with him, right? Dick pissing in Jay's ass preferred just to show the level of not caring about Jay's comfort [it's still cold!], but totally not gonna complain about piss drinking, either, if Dick's feeling a little more charitable. Is Jay surprised because it's the first time Dick has done this? Is this a normal, expected duty that he performs regularly? That's up to you!

Tim/Jason A/B/O - Filled

In an A/B/O world where omegas are in charge and alphas are treated like animals, or kept as pets, CEO Tim decides to treat himself to a new toy and buys Jason. Feel free to go as wild as you like with the kinks, I'm pretty unsquickable

Tim/Jason Stalker!Tim - Filled on the Meme by anon and HERE (by me)

Older Tim, younger Jason, where Tim's stalking gets a little obsessive once Jason takes over as Robin, and he starts stalking Jason out of costume as well as at night. A little judicious hacking later and he's able to keep an eye on Jason's internet activity too. Once he finds Jason looking at gay porn he knows he's got an in. And he starts blackmailing Jason, online at first, but escalating every time he gets Jason to go a little further, until he gets him to submit in person.

Slade/Dick/Jason - Filled amazingly HERE

Dick's been with Slade for a while, and now that he's stopped fighting and given into his training, Slade thinks he deserves a reward. Every good boy deserves a puppy, and Batman's new Robin looks like he could fit the role perfectly.

Jason Todd - Object Insertion - Filled on the meme (art)

Honestly, that's all I've got for you. I just want someone making Jason take things up his ass that have no business being there. Consensual or not are both fine! Any ship, though definitely a strong preference for Roy, Slade, Tim, Kyle, Dick, Roman or Ra's. Preferably not underage, but I'm not entirely opposed.

Ra's/Jason - Filled HERE

Ra's test drives an undunked Jason. The boy must be useful for something, after all, and he looks so pretty in chains. ABO welcome.

Prompt- Pegging (Jason) - Filled HERE

Jason gets pegged by one (or more ;)) of the lovely ladies of the DC universe. And enjoys it thoroughly Pairing is dealer's choice. <3

Bruce/Jason

Bruce takes in Jason off the streets, but more for use as a personal whore than to be Robin. Bonuses for Bruce still adopting Jason and getting off on fucking his son. EXTRA bonus points for Alfred's unfazed acceptance/support of it and perhaps even his participation.

Jason Todd Intercrural Sex - Filled on meme

This man deserves more thigh fucking and so do we! All ships welcome!

No Title - Bruce/Jason, Dick finds out Bruce has been sexually abusing Jason

One of the other prompts made me realize that while there are a lot of fics where Jason discovers Bruce has been abusing Dick, there are none the other way around and suddenly I have a craving. So I would like for Dick to find out (maybe right after Jason returns, Dick catches them and overhears Bruce say something to indicate it used to happen regularly) that Bruce had been sexually abusing Jason since the moment he found him and try to save him. And like, because of his background as a child prostitute, Jason kind of thinks it's normal or that it's the only way he could earn love? Maybe Bruce implies that Jason is useless otherwise and he'd end up back on the streets if he's not useful. Maybe Bruce is even happy to point out that the reason he never even considered touching the others is because they were too good for it, pure and wholesome, while Jason was ruined goods.

Dick/Jason fuck-or-die bottom!Jay

I would absolutely kill to see a fic where Dick is forced to fuck Jason (for whatever reason but preferably not due to sex pollen/aphrodisiacs/drugs - I would prefer if they were both in their right minds please) Preferably they wouldn't be in a relationship or have secret feelings for each other and this would be mutual noncon/rape with a focus on how horrified they are that they're having to do this to each other. I would really, really like if it was bottom!Jason for this, but that there is acknowledgement that Dick is being raped here too!

Skeezy Ric Grayson

One specific fic I read has completely coloured my perception of Ric, and now I'm just desperate to see him being a total creep. Perving on his siblings and former friends. Would love to see him not take no for an answer, especially with someone who doesn't want to fight back because "it's still Dick in there somewhere, I can't hurt him" or something like that. Preference for Wally (HiC who?) or Jason, but Tim, Roy, Babs or Donna would be okay, too! A/B/O with Alpha!Ric would be a bonus but isn't necessary.

Cassie/Rose bondage spanking and D/s, semi-dubious consent

Cassie has had enough of Rose mouthing off and causing trouble, so she ties her up with her lasso and lectures her. Rose mockingly asks her if she’s going to spank her for being a bad girl, and much to her surprise, Cassie does. They both enjoy it much more than expected

Nyssa/Talia

Nyssa/Talia, set post-Death and the Maidens, Talia restrained while Nyssa gets her off, begging to be allowed to reciprocate. Bonus points for twisty fucked up Nyssa POV with all kinds of big global megalomaniacal justifications for what she's doing and how important it is to the greater good. (Reposted from old DC kinkmeme)

Jason Todd/Dick Grayson/Roy Harper/Koriand’r

Kori loves watching her subs play with each other and rewards them well for good behavior

JayTim hatesex

Jason and Tim having incestuous-sibling-rivalry-hate-sex against the memorial

Any Bats/???, Alfred has to clean up

Poor Alfred often gets stuck cleaning up the mess when any of the family bring partners over. The crackier the circumstances the better!

Slade/Jason identity porn

Slade and Jason fuck while in costume as and pretending to be Batman and Nightwing respectively

Kyle Rayner/any

Kyle winds up working as a stripper somehow. Some other heroes find out and pay him a visit

Batfam/Jason; non con or resigned-to-his-fate cumdumpster!Jason

Could also be Earth-3 Owlfam/Jason. A/B/O welcome but it doesn't have to be. Would appreciate any one or combination of the following: dehumanization/objectification, humiliation, public sex, breeding kink, restraints, fucking machines, cum enemas, lots of cum in general, size kink... I just want something unapologetically filthy. I'm pretty much good with everything but scat.

Dick/Tim non/dub-con, universe hopping

Dark Dick from a dark universe ends up in the main universe, where he is delighted to find a brand new Timmy to play with, who unconditionally trusts his brother and doesn't know he's been replaced. Cue Dick slowly luring him in so he can have his fun. Tim doesn't realize until it's too late, or doesn't realize at all and has no idea how his beloved older brother could do this to him. Main universe has fully platonic, familial relationships within in the batfam. Feel free to imply/state anything you like about the dark universe. Grooming/slowly warming Tim up to more and more touches, crying, overstimulation, bondage, or any combination thereof are all bonuses

Young Justice S3 Dick/Jason omegaverse

Alpha!Dick Grayson is stuck on a mission and somehow has to help the mysterious Red-Hooded omega through his heat. But they have to stay quiet in order to not wake the pup Damian sleeping right next to them. Preferably there's an identity reveal in there where Dick finds out the omega is Jason Todd under the mask.

Addict!Roy Harper Noncon

Noncon (or possibly dubcon, if the manipulation is clear enough to readers) with Snowbirds Don't Fly era!Roy Harper as the victim. Could be an OC, another Titan, a Leaguer, a canon villain... Dealer's choice! Looking for something that really focuses on how he's being taken advantage of, rather than just "can't technically consent because he's high, but is totally into it."

Woder Woman/Batman, Rough Sex

Bruce loves it when Diana is rough with him

Bane/Bruce, violent noncon

Something set during Knightfall, where Bane decides to take “breaking the Bat” even further by raping Bruce and possibly also his precious little Robin

Jay/Tim bdsm AU, sub Jay

What it says on the tin. Was thinking maybe also an arranged marriage of sub Jason to dom Tim Drake, to cement a business union but also because subs aren’t full citizens.

Robin!Jason/Bruce Somnophilia

Bruce drugs his new little Robin and slips into his room. He takes his time with him, enjoying Jason before carefully opening and fucking him. Would be great if Jason wakes up towards the end but can't do anything but take it- maybe because of the drugs, maybe because of the way Bruce is holding him down, or even because he likes it.

Sidekicks/Villains noncon glory wall

Any sidekicks you want—Speedy, the Robins and Batgirls, Kid Flash and Impulse, the Wonder girls, etc.—being displayed in a glory wall, leaving their holes open for fucking. Interested villains can pay to fuck any hole they desire, and they enjoy wrecking the sidekicks and filling them with come

Robin!Jason/Villains & Henchmen?

Robin Jason gets captured and tied up by the villain of the week, who decides to take advantage of the situation. Robin is blindfolded and groped/fucked by the villain and maybe some henchmen while waiting for Batman to rescue him. Batman finding a bound and blind Jay too tempting to resist is a bonus.

Dickjay daddy kink

Older! Dick and bottom! Jason. Jason came back years later and Dick is around 40.

OmegaJason/Batfam first heat, lactation

It's Jason's first heat and the alphas of the pack know that his milk is on its way soon. All it needs is a little encouragement. A few knots and some nipple play should do it. His milk tastes perfect as it starts to flow.

Jason/Dick, Jason/RomanSionis, Hooker!Jason & Officer Grayson

So this is based off a discussion from AGES ago in the jayroman discord server that I still think about to this day XD A no capes au in which Jason never gets picked up by Bruce and ends up a crime alley prostitute who somehow along the way caught the eye of Black Mask and winds up working for him. And Black Mask has basically the whole city in his pocket, including the police force, which is why it’s so annoying when this little upstart, Officer Dick Grayson, starts to try to challenge his hold on the city, the little goody two-shoes denying any and all bribes and refusing to back down in the face of threats. And it should be easy to squash one annoying little bug, but somehow all attempts have failed and he can’t openly go after him without risking his reputation as a clean, law-abiding businessman, a reputation that’s slowly starting to unravel thanks to the dogged efforts of Officer Grayson, because the little shit is annoyingly not as stupid as his attempts to go after Roman would make him seem and despite all of Roman’s power and having basically the entire police force and the various other government officials Roman has in his pocket against him, he has made far too much headway in his endeavors So Roman gives Jason the job of seducing Dick, because if bribery and threats don’t work, video evidence of an officer fucking an underage hooker makes excellent blackmail material, and should be enough to take him down for good if he ever steps a toe out of line again Except no matter how Jason tries to seduce him, Dick is just too decent a guy to take advantage (Ex: Jason: *shows up wearing even more revealing clothes than the night before.* Dick: “You must be cold, here, take my jacket.” etc.) And before he knows it, Jason finds himself growing weirdly fond of the infuriating idiot with his stupid puns and painful sincerity

Roman Sionis/Jason Todd, AOB noncon impregnation gang rape

Intersex AOB verse. Roman wants to punish and claim the upstart omega, so he plugs Jason’s cunt and lets his men anally rape Jason until the omega begs Roman to breed his pussy

TimKon, a/b/o, alpha!Tim, bottom Conner

Humans have a/b/o. Kryptonians do not. Alpha!Tim thinks that he shouldn't bother Kon about Tim's rut. Kon thinks otherwise. Whether Kon can keep up with Tim (superpowers got to be good for something, right?) or is overwhelmed is up to anon :) I am absolutely unsquickable so whatever extra kinks are fine with me. Just please top!Tim only. Please, my crops are dying.

past romanjay now mobJay, gangbang

After getting tired with his new toy, Roman decided to just give his subordinates a chance to have fun with it. But mostly he just want to see the red hood to get more humiliated after destroying his empire.

Damian Wayne/Jason Todd, bestiality

It's time for Damian to introduce his new acquired pet to the pack, Titus and Ace.

Tim gags and spanks Damian

Red Robin has to take Robin out on patrol because Batman is away, Damian is reckless and keeps disobeying orders so Tim punishes him while having him gagged for being mouthy. can progress to something more sexual but doesn't have to be. Damian secretly enjoying it is a bonus.

Deathstroke/All the Robins

Slade really has a thing for fighting and chasing after Batbrats…

Rose/Jason mommy kink edging and pegging

Jason wants to be a good boy for mommy, Rose rewards his good behavior

Jason Todd/Kyle Rayner hatesex - Filled

I’d love some rough, angry, violent hatesex between these two. Bonus points for snarky asshole bottom!jason and kyle using his ring to make restraints/other kinky constructs ;)

Flashpoint!Father Todd/Incubus!Dick

Incubus!Dick seduces Father Todd. Jason holds out longer than most but Dick prides himself on being irresistible. He’s never failed before and he doesn’t plan to start now. But maybe, instead of his usual dine-and-ditch MO, Dick think’s he might like to savor this meal for long. Jason falls so beautifully. (bottom Jason please) Catholic aesthetics, blasphemy as kink, church sex (altar, confessional, pews, etc)

Flashpoint Thomas Wayne/Father Todd

Thomas Wayne as Batman bends Father Todd over the altar. In uniform. (At least for Thomas. It would be super hot if he strips Father Todd out of his robes first. Maybe everything except his rosary?)

Jason/Tim rape

Tim ties down Jason and rides(rapes) him. Pls let Tim use Jason as nothing but a mere meat dildo.

Titans/Dick, Titans/Jason, Titans/Tim consensual gangbang - Filled

The not-so-secret tradition of team bonding by fucking the current Bat on the Teen Titans is well-adhered to, especially given the enthusiastic consent of all participants Feel free to include any or all: garden sex, pool sex, power use, DP, riding, pegging, toy use, CBT, nipple play, cockwarming, CFNM/CMNM, and consensual somno All other kinks welcome excluding scat, watersports, emeto, ageplay, vore, and anything else bloody

Thomas Elliot/Bruce Wayne (Rape/Non-con)

Bruce doesn't realise how obsessed Thomas really is with him. Leads to Hush raping Bruce. Can be when Bruce knows who Hush is or when he still doesn't know.

Evil!Dick and Jason, noncon or dubcon

Jason comes back to his safehouse and is surprised to find Dick already there. After the initial surprise, Jason is quick to find out that there's something... off, about this Dick. He's not acting like his usual self. It turns out this isn't the usual Dick that Jason is familiar with, instead, he is a darker version of him (drugged? Talon from Earth-3 that somehow ends up in the main universe? other possibilities? all welcome options!), and this Dark!Dick is obsessed with Jason and wants to fuck him... and he doesn't take no for an answer. So there's a setup for a non-con or dub-con(in case Jason also has a crush on main Dick) for you. Restraints (gags, ropes, tapes etc.) are also welcome but doesn't have to be present.

Kon-El/Lex Luthor Daddy Kink DubCon

Lex genetically programmed Kon to need his daddy to fill him up when he created him. Lex made Kon to check all his boxes (ie Superman, something he made, a gifted teenager). Kon can’t actually consent because of programming, and he doesn’t want it until he’s getting it. Can be simple daddy kink or full of abdl. Bonus points for trans!Kon

Guy Gardner/Bunch of Aliens possible Dubcon/Noncon

Macho, hotheaded, shit-talking Guy is the embodiment of hyper-masculinity, and that arrogance of his gets him into a lot more than just a bar fight. All of Guy's enemies seem to be of the huge, muscular variety, so let's see the most stocky lantern get put in his place. Does he secretly love it? Does he outright hate it? Maybe all that shit-talking was just a ploy to finally get someone to "punish" him right. The choice is up to you. Maybe it's a bunch of random aliens Guy's ticked off in a bar. Maybe all that showboating's pissed off Kilowog or Arkillo. Maybe Lobo's still put out after being tricked one too many times by Guy. Perhaps, Atrocitus's still kinda harboring a grudge for Guy kicking him out of the Red Lanterns. Then there's always the way too touchy Dementor with his Vuldarian kin. I'm all for any other kinks or situations, I just would prefer no bathroom stuff. Go absolutely wild.

Black Mask/anyone, bathroom control, omorashi - Filled on meme

I'm a simple person with simple needs: Roman controlling whether or not someone's allowed to piss. can be consensual or noncon torture, the victim can end up pissing themselves or make it to the bathroom safely. just as long as Roman's in total control of the situation, and smug about it. bonus points: tears, begging, banter, degradation, embarrassment, additional torture, anything else along those lines. watersports only, please, no scat!

Roy Clones/Dick gangbang omegaverse

YJ season 3 episode 4 has excellent gangbang material just so you know Add omegaverse to it and its perfect Noncon/dubcon is accepted also

Titans/Jason Gangbang

Prefer comics based more than the show but either is fine. Dick and his friends welcome the new Robin the Titans way, by breaking in that hole. New kid is always the team toy, and it's even more fun now that it's Nightwing's bratty kid brother. Consensual or non con, dealer's choice. Double (or triple) penetration, dirty talk, and powers used for sex are favorite kinks but I'm good with pretty much anything.

Willis Todd/Jason Todd, Mob/Jason; Incest and forced underage prostitution

Willis pimps out his kid for cash and drugs. Catherine either pretends she doesn't know or knows and helps/doesn't care. And like any good salesman, he makes sure to test out his product to make sure it's up to snuff.

Make it cruel and awful and hopeless. Dehumanizing and degrading. Jason is just a hole to sell and use. belting in sensitive areas, beatings, violent sex, cum play, blood play... I just want something dark and nasty.

____________________________________________________

Woo! Ok. I’ll try to keep this up the best I can. I’ll link/mark when prompts are filled so that you guys can check it out if you want (all filled prompts can be reached by the link in the title, but some have ao3 links that I put on the “Filled” note).

I’ll also reblog this with any new prompts that come up or if I find I’ve forgotten one.

#DC Kink Meme #long post #too many things to tag #content and trigger warnings apply to some of the prompts #enter at your own risk #mostly Jason Todd centric #but others that I liked too

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rainywritingsx · 5 years

Note

Oof, the league villains kiddnap Endeavors side-kick, wanting to use her as bait, but she insists that it wont work. Of course, they dont believe her until a few days pass, no one has tried to look for her, media coverage is very small, and its as if no one really gives a shit and she just says "I told you, no ones coming. Do you really think Endeavor would let himself be embarrased like this?"

Gosh I love this idea so much! It’s so creative and cool!! You didn’t specify any league members/how you wanted it to end so I came up with something myself, I hope that’s okay! If anyone has any feedback for me, feel free to let me know! ^^

Oh and quick reminder: requests are closed right now!!

Words: 1390

Warnings: uhm, talking about killing? Nothing too specific. Btw I applied the Dabi is Touya theory here :D

tick. tock. tick. tock.

It felt endless.

At this point Y/n was able to ignore the pairs of eyes that were fixated on them. They let out a sigh before a soft chuckle escaped their mouth. They gazed at the leader whose plan it was to kidnap them, and with a smirk they spoke.

"Well, I told you, didn't I? Of course they wouldn't look for me. No media coverage, no search team, no missing posters. Do you really think the Endeavor would let anyone know that one of his sidekicks was missing." They laughed emotionlessly and shook their head. It was unbelievable. Y/n used to look up to the hero, thinking he was so cool for still doing his best despite the fact that All Might was obviously the number one hero.

In reality, he was a man who just wanted fame and glory, no matter the costs. And they only realised this after working with him and being kidnapped. He really didn't give a damn about his sidekicks at all.

"It's too embarrassing for him to talk about. He'd rather want me dead than to let anyone look for me." They continued. What they didn't notice was a certain black-haired guy tensing up. Dabi's hands were clenched into fists underneath the table he was sitting at, but his face didn't give away amy emotion.

On the inside however, he was fuming. He knew the man was a bastard, of course he did, but not even putting effort in looking for the people that work for him? Without them he'd be absolutely nothing.

This was just more fuel to the fire inside of him that was filled with hate to the hero, and to wannabe heroes in general.

"Oh! Can we keep them, Shiggy?" Toga smiled sickly as she grabbed her knife. "I bet they would even better bleeding on the ground!" Shigaraki grumbled in annoyance as he stared at his drink.

"Well, we definitely can't let them go after they've been at our hideout for days." Dabi sighed. Y/n chuckled.

"I see at least one of you here has a brain." Dabi couldn't help but smirk at their words.

"He's right! Hey, I'm here too!" Twice said, to which y/n rolled their eyes.

"Drop the attitude, brat." Shigaraki snapped at the hero, who just looked at him.

"Just tell me what you'll do with me. Being tied to a chair isn't exactly the most comfortable way to sit for days." Y/n said, completely unfazed at the villain's annoyed tone. They just wanted to leave, or at least not be stuck to this chair anymore.

But they were also aware that these villains couldn't just let them go, that'd be suicide. That was if y/n would tell anyone, and since they didn't know the hero well they didn't want to risk it at all.

"They're useless. Let's keep them!" Twice said, to which y/n almost laughed. His split personality was amusing to watch at times since there was nothing else they could be doing.

The room was silent. Nobody spoke, and it seemed Shigaraki was in deep thought. What could he do with them? Really, he could just make them into a pile of dust since they were completely useless..

"Tomura-kun, if you want them dead let me do it at least!" Toga, who knew exactly what her leader was thinking, pouted. Y/n slightly cringed at the thought, but then again they were sure that however they’d kill them wouldn't be pleasant.

"Nope, psycho." Dabi said as he finally got up and took some steps towards y/n, whose eyes slightly widened at the sudden action. His steps were slow, and his gaze was piercing through their soul.

"I'll do it. Just not here, don't want the hideout to be ruined do ya?" He spoke lowly as he looked at Shigaraki, who narrowed his eyes at him.

"And why should I let you do it?" Shigaraki asked.

"Psycho girl is going to make a mess of it here and our little hero might escape, they can try to escape from you so they wouldn't completely turn into dust, Spinner isn't here right now and Twice..." he didn't even finish the sentence because he was pretty sure it was obvious.

"So, crusty face, I'll just take this little brat here so we can continue our next mission instead of wasting any more of our time." He said as he grabbed their arm while undoing the knots in the rope. Y/n sighed, not feeling the urge to fight back. No one looked for them, they had no idea where they even were and even if they escaped, the league of villains would definitely look for them. This was probably their only way out.

When he was sure Shigaraki was okay with it, he was still his boss and didn’t want a fight, Dabi roughly pulled up the girl and took her with him. When they were out of the villains’ sight however, his grip quickly loosened, which confused y/n. What was he even doing?

Dabi sighed internally. Were they really an idiot?

Y/n continued following the villain, wondering where he would finally stop. Would he do it out of nowhere? Or would he give them time to prepare themselves? They were so deep in though that they didn't realise Dabi had stopped walking, so they bumped into him before muttering what sounded like an apology.

"Go." Y/n frowned. What did he mean?

"What?"

"I said, go." Dabi spoke monotonously. Y/n shook their head in disbelief. Was he serious?

"A-are you serious? I thought you were going to kill me?" They asked, very confused by the man's change of plans. Or was this his plan all along?

Dabi sighed and put his hands in his pockets.

"Look, lets just say that Endeavor and I... know each other. I know what that man is like so I know how you feel. You're not a stupid fake like him, but you actually are a true hero, as stain would say too probably." This still confused y/n. He didn't even know them, why did he have sympathy for them?

"I don't owe you an explanation anyway. Just go, little hero. But if I hear you tell anyone about this, I won't hesitate to burn you to ashes." Y/n slightly gulped at the harsh tone but nodded. Dabi chuckled softly at the hero's terrified face before nudging his head to the left.

"If you continue walking down that street long enough, you'll end up seeing some signs that show where Endeavor's agency is." Y/n couldn't help but pout slightly at his words. At this point, they didn't want to work for him anymore.

"A little bird told me that Hawks' agency is in need of some new people. You could always go there." Y/n couldn't help but smile at this. He was being nice to them? Wow. They were about to thank him when Dabi stopped them.

"Don't even thank me. We kidnapped you, I set you free. We're even now." Y/n nodded. They felt weird. They didn't want to leave... it wasn't that they had feelings for Dabi, it was just weird that someone was finally being decent to them after all these days.

"Just try to stay lowkey, or add a mask or something to your costume. The league will think you're dead so showing your face isn't a smart move." Just why was this guy helping them? They were confused but grateful at the same time.

"I will."

"Well, good luck little hero. Maybe we'll cross paths again. Can't wait to fight you and see what you can do." He smirked before walking back inside. Y/n smiled and started walking off. Though the league hadn't tortured them, sitting for days and then suddenly having to use their legs was weird, so running was quite hard.

Dabi was a very... interesting guy. They wondered what his and Endeavor's connection was. Part of them wanted to know more, but Endeavor would never open up about his private life and it was clear y/n didn't mean much to him.

It was all okay now though. They were going to start fresh somewhere else.

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #dabi x reader #dabi scenario #dabi imagine #league of villains x reader #bnha league of villains #league of villains #bnha #bnha x reader #mha x reader

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corpsentry · 5 years

Text

LAUNCHING MERRILY DOWN THE PATH OF SIN AGAIN

ao3 mirror pairing: atsumu/hinata rating: teens featuring: post-timeskip, side bokuaka, black jackals dynamics, sakusa suffering, author’s weird oral fixation

Hell yeah. Miya Atsumu is in love.

“Shit. I think I cut my gum.”

They’re having dinner together for some reason. Bokuto probably roped them all into it to stave off his boredom, but he offered to pay, so Sakusa went along with it, and because Sakusa went along with it, Hinata went along with it, and because Hinata went along with it, Atsumu went along with it. He suspects Hinata would’ve said yes from the start, but Sakusa started lecturing them on the perils of Korean BBQ restaurants, so Bokuto staved him off too with the cash thing. Sakusa is a practical person. Sometimes.

Anyway, Hinata winces as he says shit I think I cut my gum. Then he smiles like he’s really happy about it and Bokuto’s eyes go all round like volleyballs and he slams his hands on the table. Sakusa tells him not to put his hands on the table. Bokuto ignores him.

“Are you okay?” Bokuto asks.

“Yeah,” Hinata says, making a weird face while he feels around in his mouth with his tongue.

Atsumu tries to think of something intelligent to say and draws a blank. “Let me see,” he says instead. He’s sitting next to Hinata because Sakusa doesn’t trust Bokuto to share a grill with him. Bokuto is sitting next to Sakusa because he can’t share a grill with him but he wants to either try to get to know him better or piss him off. If nothing else he’s definitely succeeded at the latter.

“Huh?” Sakusa stares at Atsumu like he thinks he’s stupid, which he probably is. “The fuck are you trying to see?”

“The, uh,” Atsumu begins, but Hinata opens his mouth for him for some reason and he forgets to finish his sentence.

“I can taste blood on the right side of my mouth,” he offers.

“Uh,” Atsumu says again.

Bokuto stands up and leans over the table because Bokuto is immortal and will not be wounded by the likes of a Korean BBQ grill. “Do you need a flashlight? My phone has a flashlight.”

“Who the fuck doesn’t have a flashlight on their phone,” Sakusa says, staring at Bokuto like he thinks he’s stupid.

“Me,” Hinata offers. Hinata is using an iPhone model from the Stone Age.

“Stop talking and let me look at your gums,” Atsumu says, looking at his teeth. He has made a discovery: Hinata has very nice teeth. This aligns nicely with the other nice things he has noticed about Hinata’s face, like his eyebrows and the softness of his mouth. Hell yeah. Atsumu is in love.

“You’ve been looking at his gums for over a minute, Atsumu. Have you found anything.” Sakusa.

“Yeah,” Atsumu confirms. “There’s a cut.”

“Shit, where?”

“There.”

“Can you show me?”

“Oh, no.” Sakusa pushes his chair away from the table. “Atsumu. Don’t do it.”

Atsumu is really fucking confused. “What am I supposed to not do?” He’s still thinking about Hinata’s face. You have to get really close to someone to look inside their mouth. Close enough to kiss them. Is this what intimacy looks like?

“Are you gonna put your fingers in his mouth?” Bokuto, in a moment of clairvoyance, has caught onto the source of Sakusa’s terror. He sounds proud of himself.

“Are you?” Hinata looks at him innocently.

Atsumu puts his fingers in his mouth.

Sakusa Kiyoomi followed Inarizaki’s match against Karasuno in his second year of high school from a livestream on his phone because he wanted to minimize contact with the crowds in the gymnasium as much as possible. The match being an Inarizaki match, had attracted an especially large and diverse crowd of spectators. Nonetheless, they were united by the fact that they were all screaming. At first they were screaming because the Miya brothers were winning. Later they were screaming because the Miya brothers were losing. Then they finished losing, and Kiyoomi scoffed at them behind his mask while he wondered how Miya Atsumu was taking the fact that he had blown his first match at the Spring High.

Later he would recall the way Atsumu had looked at Karasuno’s orange-headed number ten. Kiyoomi, being the calm and logical person he is, would detect the complex twist of fascination and admiration that lay behind the twins’ duplicate of the freak quick. He might even begin to form a coherent thought about Atsumu’s motivation for executing such a shaky attack. This would involve a careful perusal of the few years of friendship between them and an evaluation of Atsumu’s taste in sports, men, and sportsmen. Then someone would cough in his direction from thirteen meters away, and he would get so mad at them he would forget all about it until he met the two of them again as teammates in the MSBY Black Jackals and Atsumu put his fingers in Hinata’s mouth.

“Dude you have to tell me why you did that,” Bokuto says. He’s leaning on Atsumu’s shoulder because he’s drunk and it’s a Friday. Bokuto only drinks on Fridays. This is a fact of life. If he could have it his way he would apparently drink on several days but Akaashi the shounen manga editor vows to wipe out seven generations of his family if he does. Therefore he abstains.

Atsumu wishes he would abstain from leaning on his shoulder. “I do?” he wonders aloud. He is drunk as well. Luckily Bokuto is more drunk so Bokuto cannot admonish him. Atsumu holds all the power in this situation.

“Yeah dude you were blushing like crazy.” Drunk Bokuto doesn’t use punctuation. It does not register on his list of things that exist in the universe. One time Atsumu made a bad life decision and crashed at his apartment; that night he overheard Bokuto talking to Akaashi the shounen manga editor on the phone, sounding like a bullet train with a caffeine addiction. Every once in a while Bokuto would fall silent. Then he would make an abrupt sound like a deflating balloon, presumably interrupting whatever Akaashi was saying, and there would be no more silence to be had for the next thirteen minutes. Atsumu felt very sorry for himself all night. He also felt very sorry for Akaashi, but less so since he had chosen to saddle himself permanently with Bokuto unlike the rest of them.

“Dude.” Drunk Bokuto says dude a lot.

“No,” Atsumu says.

They have almost reached the train station. Atsumu can see it blinking in the distance with its glowing signs and other artificial shit and he is so fucking glad for it. He manhandles Bokuto into the station and props him up against a pillar once they reach the platform. Bokuto’s coat is slipping off his shoulders. Atsumu pulls it back up.

“Do you think he was weirded out?” he asks later on the train. The soju he chugged after sticking his fingers in Hinata’s mouth is wearing off and primal fear is starting to set in. Suddenly he finds himself deeply regretting everything he has done since Hinata joined the Black Jackals. Spending so much time practicing that quick attack with him was a mistake. Buying him chocolate as a joke for Valentine’s Day was a mistake. Walking back to the train station alone with him after spending too much time practicing that quick attack, watching the way Hinata had laughed at his dumb jokes as they moved through the neon blur of the city was a mistake. Now he's in love and Sakusa's going to make fun of him. Sakusa has alien-like sensors installed in the back of his head which allow him to notice everything important in life before Atsumu does. Ah, Atsumu’s drowning in regret. He’s going to die.

“Nope,” Bokuto says cheerfully. “Hinata’s a good guy.”

Atsumu broods. “Good guys can be weirded out too, y’know.”

“Nah. He likes you.”

“What are you, psychic?”

“Hell yeah I’m psychic.”

Bokuto is not psychic. He’s just a fundamentally nice human being who gets an endorphin kick out of supporting every single person who comes within a hundred-meter-radius of him. Okay, Atsumu wants to say. Okay, so you want to support your teammates and your friends and shit. That’s great. But what if two of those teammates are At Odds with each other. What if you have to pick one.

Atsumu and Hinata are At Odds with each other. On the bright side, they’re both old enough to draw the line between work shit and personal shit so it doesn’t spill over into their professional lives. They are alarmingly civil during practice. The Black Jackals continue to get their ass handed to them by the Adlers. On the dark side, Hinata won’t so much as breathe in his direction off the court, which is pretty fucking miserable.

The best part is Atsumu doesn’t even realize he’s being ignored until Sakusa points it out to him. He’s spent the last week in denial and is actually growing kind of comfortable with this new lifestyle. He doesn’t have to deal with the fact that he has feelings for the guy who pissed him off in his second year of high school; he also doesn’t have to deal with the fact that he stuck his fingers in his mouth last Friday. Maybe Atsumu should just end his friendship with Hinata Shouyou. They can start over as business partners. Make a joint venture.

But of course, Sakusa points it out to him. “I know you think you’re being really fucking slick by ignoring Hinata all the time, but I must sadly inform you that he’s actually ignoring you as well,” he says, examining his nails absently. “Plus I think he’s trying harder at it.”

Sakusa smells like eighty-five different brands of shampoo. “I hate you,” Atsumu says.

“Your hatred means nothing to me,” Sakusa replies, unfazed.

The first time he and Hinata played together in an official match, Atsumu remembers thinking that he was glad he let Osamu set up his onigiri shop and pushed ahead with volleyball alone after all.

He figures he’ll always be a little bitter about how his high school volleyball career ended. It’s like how he still hates the everloving shit out of spicy food but has developed a tolerance for it due to his teammates’ dietary preferences. The sensation will never be pleasant, but he gets through it. He drinks a shit ton of water. After their meal he treats himself to dessert from a nearby convenience store and makes someone else pay for it out of spite. Sometimes they agree. Other times he winds up paying for his souffle cheesecake himself. But fuck it, whatever, it’s sweet.

The first time he and Hinata played together in an official match they unleashed their new freak quick in front of Kageyama Tobio and like half of Japan’s previous high school volleyball circuit. At the moment in which the ball he set went up in the air and Hinata made contact with it, Atsumu had the distinct sensation that the rules of the world had been quietly rewritten. It was akin to having a fully-grown deer ram its antlers into your chest, shattering your ribcage instantly. He couldn't hear himself anymore. Just the crowd.

Take that, he said with his eyes after Hinata scored that first sweet, sweet point, smiling at Kageyama like a switchblade. Hinata’s ours now.

Upon closer examination, what Atsumu actually meant to say was: he’s mine.

Why didn’t he say that, you ask? Because he’s a fucking idiot, of course. By this point Sakusa had already caught on to his feelings. If you had looked carefully at the background you would have noticed him squinting at Atsumu at various points throughout the match with three percent more intensity than usual. The rest of his attention was reserved for the ball, but he devoted three percent to Atsumu. This is Sakusa we’re talking about. Three percent is significant.

There is a boring romantic subplot in one of the manga that Akaashi’s magazine serializes. Unfortunately it’s about a boy and a girl, so it was probably destined to be boring from the start. But the brilliant thing about it is both the girl and the boy realize they have feelings for each other in chapter thirty and then proceed to make zero progress in their relationship for the next two hundred chapters.

“Why don’t they just get together?” he asked Akaashi once. They were having hotpot in Bokuto’s apartment. Because it was Bokuto’s apartment they got Akaashi as a freebie. Akaashi had brought wagyu beef.

“The author doesn’t feel like it.” Akaashi’s glasses kept getting fogged up by the steam. He looked like a character from a detective movie.

“Oh. Is the author single?” asked Atsumu, who was single.

“Yes,” said Akaashi, who was not single.

“Are you hitting on my boyfriend?” Bokuto called from the bathroom. They ignored him.

“Aha,” Atsumu said triumphantly. “I knew it. The author clearly has no experience. It pisses me off that they keep hinting at their feelings without getting to the point.”

“That is fair.” Akaashi had decided to take off his glasses at risk of stabbing someone in the face with his chopsticks.

“Alternatively, you could remove the romantic subplot altogether. I doubt much would change.”

Alternatively he could chase Hinata down after practice on the way to the train station. It would be snowing, because snow is pretty and makes everything look soft and cinematic. Atsumu would call out Hinata’s name as he approached him from two hundred meters away. He would be out of breath because everyone’s constantly out of breath in romantic cinema. Hinata would telepathically know that Atsumu was here to confess his undying love for him and hide his blushing face in his scarf.

Alternatively, they could have dinner together at a stuffy candle-lit restaurant. Only this isn’t a manga, and Akaashi isn’t the editor, so Hinata is still practicing serves in the gym when Atsumu appears in the doorway, still reeling at the realization that he’s been ignored for a week.

Well then. He scrolls through Instagram to pass the time.

When he’s done, Atsumu offers to help Hinata with clean-up. “Thank you,” says Hinata rather reluctantly, still not breathing in his direction.

“You know,” Atsumu says, feeling very tired. He’s too tired to beat around the bush. He has decided to eat the bush. “I can tell you’re ignoring me.”

Hinata creates distance under the guise of picking up loose balls. “Mm.”

“Why?”

Hinata squats down in front of a ball. Atsumu walks over and squats down beside him. The ceiling lights are fierce and bright above them, and Hinata’s face is tilted away from it. Atsumu can’t read his expression but he can see his ears, which are pink, and the side of his neck, which is pink as well. In this position, from this angle, Hinata’s musculature is even more stunning than usual; biceps, shoulders, back. This shouldn’t be a surprise given that they’re all adults now instead of petty high school kids with grudges as big as clenched fists. But if asked right now what the prototypical volleyball player should look like, Atsumu would point at Hinata and say: that guy.

“Sorry about sticking my fingers in your mouth,” he says quietly, folding his arms together over his knees and resting his chin on top. And then, in a flash of inspiration: “Also, I’m in love with you. I hope your cut healed properly?”

Hinata finally lifts his face up into the light, and Atsumu is reminded of watching the rising sun spill across the surface of the sea in a NatGeo documentary. For a second he looks absolutely lost. Then he knits his brow, stares hard at Atsumu like he’s trying to do calculus in his head or something.

“About the cut,” he says, hesitating. “Why don’t you find out for yourself.”

Atsumu chokes.

It’s not like he hasn’t been in love before. In high school he had a crush on Kita Shinsuke that was so debilitatingly bad, he never even told Osamu about it. But Kita Shinsuke didn’t have a debilitating crush on him and he never went pro. They didn’t wind up as teammates again several years later when Atsumu finally figured out how to style his hair properly with gel. Kita vanished off the radar after high school with that unnerving smile of his. They haven’t seen each other since.

Anyway, Atsumu has a lot of complicated feelings for Hinata. At first he was pissed at him for teleporting off to Brazil for two years, and thinking that he could still brute force his way into a Division One team immediately upon his return. Then Hinata actually did that, and Atsumu spent several weeks sulking about their new teammate by refusing to so much as breathe in his direction. Eventually Sakusa sat him down in the empty locker room one morning and looked him straight in the eye from two meters away and said you want to set for him don’t you. After thinking about it for a while he realized that Sakusa was right. He wanted to set for Hinata Shouyou. Back in high school the feeling had arisen mainly out of spite and childish frustration. Now it was genuine.

So fine, maybe he likes Hinata a little more than he should.

They’re not high schoolers anymore. They’re old enough to know where to draw the lines between work shit and personal shit and risk-taking and stupidity. They’re supposed to know themselves better by this point. Like what’s your favorite alcoholic drink. What’s your taste in men and sports and sportsmen. Do you believe in miracles.

Do you believe in—?

“—This,” Hinata says. Atsumu realizes belatedly that he had missed the first part of his sentence but before he can try to figure it out Hinata fists a hand in his shirt and yanks him forward.

Oh no, Atsumu thinks. Hinata’s smiling. All crooked like a semicircle of sun. All pretty-like.

“Since that’s out of the way,” he says brilliantly, warm breath fanning out over Atsumu’s cheeks, moving closer still. “I hope you don’t mind if I just—”

Atsumu closes his eyes and lets Hinata pull him in. He’s old enough to know where this leads.

They’re having dinner together again for some reason. Bokuto roped them all into it to stave off his boredom because Akaashi the shounen manga editor is in Hokkaido on a business trip, but he offered to pay, so Sakusa went along with it, and Sakusa went along with it, so Atsumu went along with it, and Atsumu went along with it, so Hinata went along with it. The truth is they almost always go along with Bokuto’s whims because Bokuto’s a fundamentally nice human being and Akaashi brings the fanciest ingredients to their hotpot parties. It doesn’t actually matter if Bokuto offers to pay. Someone will start the reluctant-yes-train and then the rest will join in and before they know it, they’re all ducking into the doorway of a restaurant together.

“So was anyone gonna tell me that two of my teammates are dating,” Bokuto says, waving his chopsticks around grandly while Sakusa attempts to shield his risotto from the onslaught of loose rice grains. “Or was I just supposed to find out from Omi-kun here?”

Hinata’s eyes go wide. Atsumu, who had been chewing on a fry, doubles over coughing.

“ATSUMU. ARE YOU OKAY.” Bokuto’s feet are on the table. Sakusa is seeing God.

“Shit.” Atsumu winces, feeling around in his mouth with his tongue. “I think I cut my gum.”

“Let me see.”

“Uh, Hinata, you don’t have to do that, actually—”

“Are you going to do that thing again?” God bless Bokuto and his endless store of curiosity towards all things chaotic and doomed in the world. God bless Sakusa who has ascended to the next dimension. God bless Atsumu's poor gums.

Hinata beams at Bokuto. “No,” he says slowly, bright as a bonfire. “I’m going to kiss him.”

God bless them all.

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